I Need You To Love Me
by Siavahda
Summary: RikuxSora. Riku's emotions were taken from him two years ago  along with his soul. Both now belong to Seriphoth, and in order to get them back he has to find someone to love him. But the boy he loves doesn't love him back...Does he?
1. Prologue

Hey People! Okay, now for the full summary:

This is an AU, people. I'm sorry I didn't state that in the outer summary, but I know I wouldn't normally go for a KH AU. But I PROMISE this is going to be really good!  
_Riku is the Rose of the Twilight - the incarnation of the Winds of the Web (the Web being the magikal spider-web that connects all the thousands of worlds). When he walked straight out of the Darkness (not the Darkness in KH, but that which the Web is suspended in) there were two Lords searching for him - Ansem, the Star of the Web (aka, the good guy,) and Sephiroth, the Flame (his nemisis). Sephiroth got to him first, and, befriending him, Riku served him for a year, believing the lies he was told about Ansem and all of Sephiroth's enemies. (He isn't mortal, and didn't know what a lie was, so you can't blame him). So, at the ritual of one year, (when someone like Riku is 'born', there are Web Laws that have to be followed) Riku chose to serve Sephiroth and not Ansem.  
After that, Sephiroth had possession of his soul, and Riku learned what a mistake he had made.  
Now, with his emotions taken away from him, touch starved, Riku has to find someone to love him to challenge Sephiroth's hold on his soul. In one month, the final ritual - the Eclipse - takes place, and if there is no one to challenge Sephiroth..._

* * *

_Prologue_

Riku ignored the shadows that flickered through the dark hallways, cast, perhaps, by the darkened candle-crystals inset into the walls. But it was more likely that they were his Lord's servants, watching him from the corners, enamoured with his brightness but forbidden to touch that which drew them.

_Moths to a flame_, he thought to himself, bitter in his arrogance. _Only it's not the flame that will burn them for touching._

No. If Sephiroth knew that any of the Heartless had touched him, they would be wiped from existence before they had time to breathe.

As his night-cloth boots whispered across the marble of the floors, he wondered if it were a ploy to break his spirit, the lack of touch in his life – or if it were simply jealousy, keeping his precious pet to himself.

The silver-haired boy paused a moment as he reached the polished obsidian door, eyes as black as his master's roving over the sigil etched into the slab of gem – a lily, black, outlined in silver so it could be seen at all against the monotonous ebony of the door.

He stared at it, frowning slightly. He knew the Heartless, his master's servants, feared to touch this door, the solid block of obsidian, without a handle, a keyhole – and they especially avoided the blossom carved into it.

Everyone feared this door. Hated it, prayed to whatever their half-mad minds convinced them was still out there that they would never be called to it. To what – _who_ – lay behind it.

He envied them their fear. He wanted to know what fear felt like.

He used to know, once, he reflected as he pushed the door open, letting it swing on silent hinges. When his soul was still his own – when he was free.

Riku stepped through the door, and as it closed behind him the Heartless came forth from the shadows, and in their own language of secret whispers, they wondered if their favourite would survive this next meeting with their master.

)0(

Sephiroth stared at the boy who had walked through his door, who knelt on one knee before the White Throne, and he tapped his fingers on the pearl armrest idly. His pet's armour was perfect, a work of art – even if he did say so himself. The blue-black chest cover, meta-metal _(AN – metaphysical)_ was cut away at the centre of his chest, a heart that showed shadow, not flesh. A harsh reminder that Riku was not the one guarding his own soul.

The Flame rose from his throne, and even after all this time he was surprised when Riku didn't flinch, simply kept his position as if he were stone. Ah – but he had ripped the boy's emotions away long ago, in preparation for this coming month. Planning ahead, as it were.

"You may stand, Riku," he murmured, walking down the three marble steps to the chamber's floor, coming to stand beside him, watching as his pet gracefully climbed to his feet, his every motion as elegant as flowing water. As elegant as wind.

No, he reminded himself sharply. As the Winds.

But even knowing, as he knew, more than anyone, what Riku was, he couldn't stop that sudden spark of hunger, that was flaring up brighter and hotter every day, and his eyes raked hungrily over the Rose's perfect form – his strong, chiselled legs, leading up to his well-defined chest…And his hands _ached_ to run through that silver hair, to make those black eyes flash pure azure. It was regretful, truly, that the taking of a soul turned the eyes black as ebony…

Idly, he ran a finger down the side of Riku's throat, letting it trace across his shoulder, his arm, down to his waist…All the while with the Rose staring straight ahead, not reacting in any way, still and…numb.

Letting his hand fall to his side again, Seriphoth walked back towards his throne, sitting casually on the steps. He rested his head in one hand, contemplating the boy before him.

It really was a stroke of incredible luck that he had managed to get to him first, when the boy had walked straight out of the Darkness, three years ago, fully formed with his powers a wild nimbus around him, magnetic and hot, burning. It was an amazing piece of luck that his spies had discovered exactly what Ansem's precious prophecy dictated – and that he had been able to decode what Ansem had not.

The Rose of the Twilight. The incarnation of the Winds, the very Web itself, with the power to shape existence. Magik answered his call as it answered no one else's.

How easy it had been, to convince this non-human, this non-mortal, that he was a friend, a protector. It wasn't as if Riku had experience with mortals, wasn't as if he even knew what a lie _was_. He didn't understand the concept of non-truth.

So easy.

And after a year of teaching him, training him, _befriending him_, when the ritual came – that ceremony in which, after a year of experience, the Star was to choose whom he would serve – who else would he choose but Sephiroth? After all the lies he had been told about Ansem?

And then, when his soul belonged to the Flame?

Well. With Ansem cursing his own luck, cursing his nemesis, cursing his prophets that hadn't understood their own prophecy, Sephiroth was breaking the Rose, tearing his every emotion away, preparing him for the boy's final chance at freedom. So that he would fail.

He really didn't have anything to worry about, after all. Riku would fail – how could he not? He had no understanding of people – Sephiroth's was the only voice he had heard for two years, his the only touch. He didn't have a hope of convincing someone to love him.

"Riku, do you know why you have been called here?" He asked the Rose, watching for some flicker of emotion. Just to make sure he had been complete in his destruction.

"No, my Lord," Riku murmured, still staring straight ahead, eyes slightly glazed, hands at his side.

"It is your Eclipse, Riku. The ritual in which you are permanently dedicated to one master. In one month, it will take place – and, at this point, I am the only one with a claim to your soul. I am the one whom you will serve – forever – if there are no other claimants. Do you understand?"

Riku nodded, his silver hair whispering as it brushed against his skin. "Yes, my Lord."

"Good." Sephiroth nodded, as if to himself, before continuing. "Now, since I am the only claimant at this point – due to your service to me for the past three years – no one else in the Web will challenge me for you. Since any challenger would have to take part in a physical battle against any other challenger…Well." He smirked. "Not even Ansem could defeat me in battle, Riku."

The Rose said nothing.

"So," he went on, "you will need to find someone from Earth, since no human knows of me and, thus, may be foolish enough to challenge me. Again – do you understand?"

"Yes, master, but…" Riku hesitated a moment. "Earth, master? Humans?"

Sephiroth nodded, a smirk twisting his lips. "Yes, Riku. The People without magik, shut off from the rest of the Web for their own protection. Earth. Humans."

Frowning, Riku nodded slowly. He looked as if he were thinking deeply – and again, Sephiroth smirked to himself. Instilling a sense of contempt for the 'worthless' Humans – weakest of the weak – had been yet another fabulous idea. His foresight had, truly, been commendable.

"Now, just to make it clear, pet," Sephiroth murmured, unfolding from his place on the steps, striding back towards the Rose, pausing at his side, "Against a claim of service, you will need a claim of…love. You will need a lover to challenge my claim, Riku."

The Rose didn't move, but he thought he saw a flicker of pain in the black eyes before Riku nodded again. "Yes, master."

Unable to stop himself, Sephiroth raised a hand to Riku's mouth, pressing his fingertips against the Rose's lips – soft, full, as perfect as the rest of him. Riku stiffened, and Sephiroth laughed softly.

"Such a pity the Eclipse calls for you to be…untouched, Riku," he murmured, dragging his hand down, nails gently scraping the milky skin of his throat, revelling in the flash of fear that beat against his fingertips, the Rose's pulse fluttering too quickly. Only being this close to the holder of his soul evoked any emotion, and so it was only Sephiroth who could make him cry, make him scared…make him _scream_.

He let his hand fall again, after cupping Riku's cheek for a moment. "Ah, well. Never mind. There will be centuries to fill after the Eclipse, won't there, Riku?"

And, walking out the door, laughing to himself, Sephiroth didn't see the tears gathering in the Rose's eyes, that, as he walked further and further away, dried and faded until, when the door closed, only one was left to fall.

But by then, Riku wasn't able to care anymore.


	2. I Don't Know What Love Is

_Hey guys! Well, the prologue got good reviews, and I managed to write this chapter a little faster than expected. Thank-you to everyone who reviewed! I'd send back personal replies, like I usually do, but my internet connection's a bit spazzy at the moment. Sorry! _

_I realise this story's a bit weird – ok, VERY weird. And, I'd also like to point out I haven't actually PLAYED any of the KH games (something I'm very sad about and intend to remedy as soon as possible). However, through various fanfictions and music vids (courtesy of youtube) I've fallen in love with Kingdom Hearts, so…Yeah. _

_The whole thing about the Web and the various Peoples will, I promise, all be explained. This is also a bit of a world-building exercise for me, since I've been playing with the Web for years now. Any questions, feel free to ask!_

_And now, for chapter ONE!!!_

* * *

_Chapter One – I Don't Know What Love Is_

"Riku?"

Roxas hesitated, his hand on the door, waiting for his friend to answer him. _Please, Riku,_ he begged silently, straining to hear something. _Please answer me._

After another minute of silence, he couldn't take the tension anymore, and he flung the door open, praying that the Rose was all right. The moment his personal Heartless servants had told him that Sephiroth had summoned his friend, he had come running – only to find the door to their Lord's chamber firmly closed, giving him no way to sneak in and pretend to need something.

So now he was here – and, thank whoever was listening, so was Riku.

The boy with the silver hair was sitting on his bed, head resting in his hands, hair curtaining his face so Roxas couldn't see his expression. He was still wearing the ceremonial armour Sephiroth demanded he wear whenever he appeared before their Lord – and Roxas tried not to think about why the Flame preferred that outfit.

"Riku?" He said again, softly, stepping through the doorway. His black robe swished, the cloth rustling, and he knew his friend had heard him. His un-mortal ears were sharper than a Vampire's – he would have heard Roxas breathing four halls away from his room.

Riku lifted his head, and Roxas forced himself not to flinch at the empty, numbed expression in his eyes, the helpless way his hands rested in the air, elbows on his thighs.

"Roxas?" He whispered, and Roxas struggled not to cry at the incredulous sound, forcing a weak, watery smile instead.

"Yeah, Riku, I'm here," he whispered back, striding quickly across the room to take a seat beside him on the bed, wrapping his arms around Riku's shoulders, stiffening at the cold touch of the black armour against his palms, forcing himself to keep up the façade of comfort. He knew he couldn't touch Riku where he was now, but he had to try.

Neither of them said anything for a moment, before Riku let his hands fall onto his knees, staring straight ahead at the wardrobe door, the polished glass mirror reflecting his blank stare, the empty ebony eyes gazing out from a curtain of silver.

"I need to find someone to love me, Roxas."

"What?" Roxas leant back, slipping his hands from Riku's shoulders as he frowned at his friend. "What are you talking about?"

He wanted to shake the silver-haired boy when he didn't look at him, when his voice was totally empty of emotion. "My Eclipse. It's in one month, and I need someone to love me, to challenge Sephiroth."

"Oh," Roxas whispered softly, his gaze dropping to the floor. He knew about Riku, about his gifts, the rituals that governed someone with such power. Knew about the High Magik that had torn his soul from his chest – leaving the gaping, shadowy space you could see through the heart in the breast-plate. "What are you going to do?"

Black eyes stared into his for a moment, and he could barely meet them for a second before he turned away – hating this, hating himself, hating the weakness that forced him to look away.

Riku turned back to the mirror, and when he laughed, bitterly, Roxas jumped.

"I don't even know what love is, Roxas," he said, getting to his feet and walking towards the wardrobe, its wood polished and fine. "How am I supposed to feel it?"

Roxas said nothing – because he was right. After all these years of having his emotions brutalised, ripped, torn, smashed into shimmering pieces of crystal that were lost in the dark – how was he supposed to love someone? How was anyone supposed to love him?

Spinning suddenly on his heel, a full circle, Riku kept talking as he went round and round, and Roxas wondered if there was a little hysteria in his voice now.

"How, Roxas? How am I…? How can I…?" He laughed again, bitterly, and it grated on his ears, because you could _hear_ the falseness behind it, the laughter for the sake of laughter. The mortal _mask_ he forced himself to wear. "Who could love _this?_"

Once more, around, arms flung out as he spun, hair flying as if in a wind – and then a sudden halt, shocking, jerking. Black eyes met his own.

"He wants me, Roxas," Riku said, stating a fact as if it were the weather. "He has my soul, and even that isn't enough for him. He has my emotions, and they don't do it either. He wants my body as well. And…" He took a breath, as if to steady himself, but Roxas ignored it, knowing that it wasn't as it appeared. Knowing Riku was just trying to put off the moment that he had to say it – not that he couldn't.

"And if I don't find someone, a _human_, then he'll have it. Do you understand, Roxas?" Riku turned behind him, touched the shining mirror with one gloved hand, trailing it down his reflection's brow, slowly, slowly.

"My soul, my magik, my body. They'll all be his. What do you think he'll do, once he has all that power? All _my_ power?" He whispered, letting his hand fall. "Anything. Everything. No one could stop him, least of all me. Ansem would be crushed as if he were nothing – Sephiroth could rule the Web as he chose, with me standing behind the White Throne. Don't you think?"

Roxas couldn't say a word, horrified beyond measure as his mind painted a picture from his friend's words. He hadn't realised Riku's Eclipse was so close. Three years since the Rose walked out of the Darkness – he'd thought it would be five, or seven, two of the more powerful magikal numbers. He'd thought they just had to wait it out, wait for Ansem to come up with something and rescue them.

But no.

A _month_? _Humans_? That meant _Earth_, and that meant no magik. Riku, without his magik? What…What was he supposed to do?

"Riku…It'll be all right," Roxas whispered, standing, trying to convince himself. "It _will_. We'll find someone to love you, ok? There has to be someone, in a whole world, right? Yeah," he said, feeling a little stronger. "A whole world of Humans? Easy. Find some beautiful girl who'll fall for your air of mystique, and we're done! How hard can it be?"

"We?"

"Well, _yeah_," Roxas exclaimed, standing beside him, their reflections side by side in the mirror. "You're my best friend, Riku. Of course I'm coming with you. You're allowed bring two people with you, and you get to choose one of them, according to the Laws. So Seph – uh, our Lord," Roxas amended as Riku stiffened, "will probably choose a guard or something for the second person. So you can choose me."

If only everything were that simple, Roxas thought wistfully, trying to pretend hard enough to make it real. Make his easy-going façade real, make his optimism the real thing. Meld mask and flesh.

Riku was silent for a moment, staring at their reflections together. Roxas followed his gaze, trying to remember if he'd had a best friend before he came here, to Sephiroth's castle.

He didn't think so.

Something occurred to him as he was watching Riku think – he'd never heard of Riku fancying any of the people living in Sephiroth's domain, never seen him follow anyone with bright eyes. He didn't have a clue what his best friend's preferences were.

Of course, it wasn't as if it was a big deal, whatever his answer was. Only Humans were so narrow-minded that they had problems with love, in any of its forms. And even they were slowly coming around. Most of the Peoples Roxas knew of followed the Law _love as thou wilt_ – including his own.

But how to ask?

"Um…Riku?"

His friend turned to him, a slight smirk on his mouth, making Roxas pray his friend's powers didn't include mind-reading. He was pretty sure they didn't. "Yes, Roxas?"

"Which way does the door of your heart swing?" He said quickly, trying not to blush. Even if it was accepted, asking so intimate a question was still slightly discourteous… And it didn't help that he had a slight crush on his best friend. If it had been more than a crush, he might have offered to be Sephiroth's challenger…

But it wasn't love. Just a crush. He knew that, and he didn't pine over it. Even if he _did_, occasionally, daydream about it…

Riku gazed at him for a moment, and Roxas was starting to wonder if he really _could _read minds by the time he was answered.

"What do you mean?"

Oh, _great_.

"Well, um, which sex do you prefer?" Roxas asked, not meeting his eyes. Great great _great!_

But Riku just shrugged, moving past his friend to take a leap onto the bed, spreading his arms and legs like a star over the night-blue satin of the duvet as he stared up at the ceiling-cloth of the four-poster. "Neither, Roxas."

Tearing his eyes away, and trying not to fall into one of his daydreams, seeing Riku lying like that, Roxas sat down on the floor, crossing his legs. Not sure where to look or what to do with his hands, he started playing with the draw-string cord for the neck of his robe.

"Riku, you _have_ to know. Look…" He racked his mind to try and find a way to ask a boy without emotions. Asking who he liked would be no good – he didn't _like_ anyone, as such, even Roxas. Roxas…Roxas was a special case, somehow.

He hated being touched. It was probably all the possessive caresses Sephiroth gave him, especially in front of his generals and visiting dignitaries, but Riku hated it when someone touched him – even just brushing against him in a hallway, or holding his shoulder.

Again, except for Roxas. But that was different.

"Is there anyone you want to touch you, Riku? Someone in the castle, I mean." Roxas asked, still playing with the cord – but there was only so much you could do with a piece of string, and knowing Riku wouldn't care if he stopped or not didn't help. Being around Riku didn't stop the instinctive urge to not-be-awkward he had around other people.

Riku lifted his head to look at him, frowning with confusion. "What?"

"Is there anyone you want to touch you?" He said again, refusing adamantly to meet the black eyes. Giving up on the cord, he started picking at imaginary lint on his robe.

Riku stiffened. "No." His eyes shuttered, glazed over, and for a second Roxas thought he looked as though he were remembering something, something he hated…

But Riku couldn't feel hate. So that couldn't be it.

Roxas sighed, climbing to his feet. "Ok then. I guess we'll just have to wait, see what we find when we get there, huh?"

Riku's eyes closed as he nodded, letting his head fall back on the bed, hair spreading around him like a halo.

Shaking his head to free it from the thoughts, Roxas made for the door. He wanted – so badly – to ask his friend if he was all right. But the question would just be met with a blank, confused stare.

Because Riku didn't know what all right was.

As he shut the door behind him, silently, Roxas wished his father had gotten to Riku first.

Sighing, he turned left down the bleak hallway, back to his room. If he was lucky, the guards posted outside his door wouldn't question where he had been…

)0(

Ansem sighed, closing his eyes as he leaned his head on his hand, covering his eyes as he thought. His hair – silver, the power in his body having burned the colour away, as it had with Sephiroth – fell forward as the informant knelt before the throne, waiting his response.

Finally, he looked up, but his spy's eyes were fixed on the ground, his head respectfully bowed.

"There's no reason to kneel," Ansem snapped, temper frayed from weeks of frustration and concern, his fingertips pale red from the hundreds of Healed paper-cuts, all gotten from the sharp-edged parchments of prophecy in his library. The colour, though, was hidden by long-sleeved gloves that disappeared into his black overcoat – he hadn't had time to remove them, or his spell-protected jacket before meeting with his spy.

Silently, the tattooed Draco stood – and it was apparent that he hadn't had time to change, either, since he still wore Sephiroth's uniform of black robes, the draw-string cords criss-crossing across his upper chest and neck. Emerald eyes stared at him past flaming red hair, burning so brightly with jade fire that there was no doubt he could be anything but a Draco – even though, under Sephiroth's service, his wings and tail had been brutally removed with white-hot blades, leaving long, angry-red scars under the black cloth, the only evidence that he wasn't Human.

"Report," Ansem ordered briefly, seeing no reason to waste words on a low-born.

If he was insulted, the man before him gave no sign of it. "My Lord, Sephiroth is sending the Rose to Earth, in accordance with the Last Clause of the Balance. A guard and the boy Roxas will accompany him, and the Rose will have to find someone to love him if he does not wish to serve Sephiroth."

Ansem waved his hand. "I guessed as much – the Eclipse is in one month, after all. Anything else?"

The Draco hesitated, and Ansem noted how sparks twirled in and out of his gloved fingers, thin, delicate ribbons of fire. "My Lord, I suspect Sephiroth does not intend to abide by the Laws of the Balance."

At that, the Star sat up in his throne, clutching at the armrests with paled fingers. "What? In what way?"

Again, the man hesitated, and the ribbons grew a little brighter, a little thicker as they wove a tapestry between his fingers. "My Lord, I think he means to kill anyone the Rose expresses an interest in. I overheard him discussing the matter with his generals as he debated who to send with the Rose."

Damn it! Ansem curled his hand into a fist as he leant back in his seat. The Last Clause was the only way that Sephiroth wouldn't have complete control over the Rose – the incarnation of an unbelievable amount of power. The last two years had been hell for Ansem's forces – his supporters killed, their families murdered, his son kidnapped and held hostage. His outposts were crushed into rubble, the worlds under his rule attacked again and again – and all of it was Riku, on his own, none of Sephiroth's soldiers giving any assistance.

But there was a limit to his control over the boy. At least, there was now – the moment Riku spoke the oath, as he had to, at the Eclipse, was the moment the Web would fall to Sephiroth. He wouldn't have to worry about protecting his family – the very _worlds_ he guarded would be destroyed, wiped from the Web as if they had never been.

There had to be something he could do.

He looked up at the Draco. "I am pleased you managed to gather so much information. You have my thanks."

The red-haired Draco nodded, bowing, and made as if to go, thinking, no doubt, that he had been dismissed.

"Wait!" Ansem raised his voice, and the man instantly swung around, awaiting instruction.

"I cannot allow the Rose to fail – you know the consequences as well as I do," Ansem said, as if musing. "So there must be those who will assist him. By the Laws, I cannot do it myself, just as Sephiroth cannot harm any but those who challenge him at the Eclipse."

The man nodded, still waiting silently.

"And so," Ansem continued, getting to his feet, "I shall send some of my own forces, just as he will do. Can you ensure that Sephiroth chooses you to accompany the boys?"

The man shook his head quickly. "No, my Lord. It is doubtful I will be sent at all – as there is only one who may go with them, I would guess he would send one of the Three."

The Star nodded slowly. "I see. In that case, I think it is time you showed your true colours. You will withdraw from Sephiroth at once and return here, within the next four hours, at which point you may select two others to accompany you to Earth. You understand, I trust, what I expect from you."

Axel nodded grimly as he made for the door. "Yes, my Lord. I will protect the Rose – and his Heart's Choice."


	3. A Meeting In The Halls

_Hey everyone! Glad people seem to like my story so much! Just realised I never put a disclaimer up, so, here it is __**– if you recognise anything, it doesn't belong to me!!!**_

_I'm sorry it's taking so long for Sora to appear, but everything I've been writing here is VITAL, so…sorry. You'll just have to wait. )sighs( It's sad, caus I LOVE Sora, but…_

_Anyway, do enjoy!_

* * *

_Chapter Two – A Meeting In The Halls_

Roxas kicked out at an imaginary stone as he walked through the halls, not really watching where he was going. Even after almost three years encased in the black shell of Sephiroth's stronghold, he still didn't take note of his position in the winding hallways.

Which was why, when he looked up at a sudden sound, he realised he had no idea where he was.

Startled, magik-blue eyes met burning green, both colours saturated with shock as Roxas took in the face before him – a face that quickly shuttered and bowed in respect.

"Lord Roxas," the red-haired man murmured as his head lowered, and Roxas found himself entranced with the green diamond tattoos imprinted under his eyes, shining as though cut emeralds had been inset into his skin.

But watching the man's grace wasn't enough to halt the aching pang that ran through him at the mention of his title, the smouldering hate at Sephiroth's mockery of his bloodline...Whatever it was.

"Just Roxas, thanks," he muttered, making to brush past him. It was just a guard – no one important, no one who would dare to report his disrespect to Sephiroth…

But a gloved hand shot out across him, blocking his path with a lightning-fast motion born on the battle-field…And Roxas caught his breath.

Shit.

Only the Generals were that fast.

Still turned away from the red-head, he tensed, instinctively drawing power from his centre, channelling it into his palms, heating the skin – ready to spin on his heel and throw fire into this man's face if he didn't let him go. Though he wouldn't usually dare dream of attacking a General, Roxas was an untouchable – just like Riku. None of the assorted soldiers, Generals, Heartless, whatever – none of them were meant to touch him.

Still debating whether or not to defend himself, he jumped when warm breath ghosted over his ear.

"And what's a pretty boy like you doing wandering the corridors so late?" The voice purred, the General leaning forward so his arm touched the opposite wall. He put his weight on it, completely blocking Roxas from escaping down the hallway. "Especially one who doesn't have enough respect for a General?"

Roxas grit his teeth, choking on the sudden, stabbing fear mixing with the fury. He felt sick with it, and the weak nausea snuffed out the magik in his hands, slipping it away to his centre again.

"I –" Roxas couldn't think. If this man was right, it was past his curfew for him to be back in his room for the night. All it would take was a few words to Sephiroth…

The man tutted in mock-disappointment. "What? No reason? No excuse? Oh well…" His lips brushed against Roxas' ear, and he froze again at the soft warmth. "I won't tell Sephiroth if you don't…"

He opened his mouth to speak – to say what, though? He had no idea – but his mind short-circuited when a hand, this one gloveless, brushed the fine hairs at the nape of his neck.

All of a sudden, it was very, very hot in Sephiroth's castle.

His breath was suddenly loud in his ears, harsh like sandpaper in his throat as the General chuckled softly, his fingertips trailing down the back of his neck, light as gossamer ribbon…

But…He wasn't…Wasn't supposed to be touched…

His eyes fluttered closed to azure slits, his hyper-sensitive skin trembling beneath the caress, the rough fingertips – hard and coarse from centuries of battle, years of Healed burns, decades of wielding a blade – dancing across his neck, and he swayed on his feet, hands coming up a little as if to hold onto something for balance…

There was nothing to grab.

He was panting, trying not to collapse to the ground. Was _this _what it felt like, when someone touched you? This…This _burning_, beneath your skin, the heat that writhed in your blood? He couldn't understand why Riku hated being touched – this was _wonderful_…He couldn't decide whether to lean into the caress or throw his head back, because he was aching for those rough fingers to move to his throat…

The decision was taken from his shaking hands as the General laughed softly, and the sound was threaded with whimpers, a breathy gasping that he couldn't identify. Where was that coming from?

But it didn't matter – still leaning on the wall, the hand on his neck retreated, coinciding with another, louder whimper: and came back. The first two fingers met under his chin, tilting it back firmly, irresistibly, and as a hot mouth met his Roxas finally realised that the whimpers were coming from _him_.

He barely had a second of that perfect meshing of lips – chaste, but oh, not innocent – the friction of a Draco mouth on his, the tiny, velvet scales that protected their lips when they Breathed – the soul-surrender as he submitted to it, let himself be completely ruled –

Before the General broke away, his eyes like wet jade, dark, as he retreated, taking a step back, his hand leaving the wall, leaving Roxas' path clear.

He smirked gently as he took in the flushed, still-trembling boy before him, sapphire eyes dark with an emotion the Untouchable couldn't understand. Reaching forward, he brushed a strand of hair back behind the slightly pointed ear, letting himself linger just a little too long on the heated skin before pulling back.

Roxas heard soft laughter, not unkind or malicious, but regretful and joyful together, bright shadows.

"You don't know how long I've wanted to do that, Roxas," the General murmured, still staring at him, arms crossed in front of his chest. "Watching you grow has been an experience for me – I didn't think my heart could still burn after Sephiroth clipped my wings." Roxas flinched at the bitterness in the other's voice, but said nothing – _couldn't_ say anything. He was still trying to recover from the heated touches, his mind still blurred and hazy.

"But it doesn't matter now. You can't be blamed if Sephiroth somehow finds out about this, after all – what were you supposed to do; attack a General?" The man smirked, eyes flaring.

"And I'll be long gone, by the time he discovers this…lovers tryst," he continued, as if to himself.

Somehow, Roxas managed to understand that part, grasp what glittering fragments he could through the smoky fog around his mind. "W-what?"

The man looked at him in amusement. "This isn't like you, Roxas. You've barely said anything. Have I reduced you to single-words?"

If he'd been properly conscious, he would have stepped back when the man darted to him, bending down just a little so their faces almost met, the other's breath ghosting over his swollen mouth.

"With just a – few – light – touches?" The General breathed, that velvety mouth drifting over Roxas' slim jaw, back and forth with each word.

Roxas, still hyper-sensitive, found himself doing something that, later, he couldn't understand – he threw his head back and moaned, hands coming up again to tangle in that burning red hair, his fingers winding through the bloodied silk…His gloves were gone, and, later, he found ashes on his fingers.

He had been so out of control his magik had destroyed them.

He whimpered, trying to twist his head so that mouth would wind up on his throat, but the General just laughed, softly, nuzzling the skin between jaw and neck before pulling away, gently reaching up to disentangle Roxas' hands from his hair.

"I'm sorry, Roxas," he whispered, the heat in his eyes suddenly snuffed out, replaced with a wet sadness. "It wasn't fair of me to do that. Please forgive me. I just…" He ran the gloved hand through his hair, searching for the right words. "I couldn't leave without saying goodbye."

For a second, all he could do was blink, trying to rationalise what had just happened. Someone – other than Riku – had _touched_ him. He'd been _kissed_ – and gods, it had felt very, very good.

And then he caught on.

"That's how you say _goodbye_?" He said, confused – and hurt. It scared him, confused him, but he wanted more of that feeling, that _fire_. Blurred, hazy, half-formed images flashed through his mental eye, making him ache for something he couldn't name.

The man looked at him, considering, and when he spoke, it was quietly, slowly.

"My People have something called a Heart's Wish, Roxas. It's something you want so badly you can't sleep, can't eat, can't think about anything else. It's a struggle just to act normal, to not let anyone else pick up on it. People are expected to work to make their Heart Wishes come true, because that's the only way they'll find happiness and peace again."

Roxas couldn't look away, didn't think about what to do with his hands or how to stand, or if he should respond. It didn't matter, suddenly. It was ok.

"To not make your Heart Wish reality…" The Draco paused. "It's unacceptable. A sign of weakness – that you're not strong enough to make yourself happy."

He looked up. "I've never been weak, Roxas. I had to make my Heart's Wish come true – this was my last chance. I'm leaving – I've received new orders, and I don't have to live this lie anymore. It cost me my wings, and it cost me you – I don't want to find out what else I have to pay to keep up this façade."

Each word stung, like an arrow shot from a bow, a dagger tossed from a hand. And it hurt more because he'd assumed, naturally, instinctively, that _that_ hand would never hurt him. "You're…You're leaving? Just like that?" His eyes widened as he joined the dots in his mind, and he took a step back in sudden alarm, all thoughts of being ravished again fleeing like shadows in light. "You're a spy!"

The General smirked, but it seemed there was a hint of sadness in it. "Yes, I am – or at least, I _was_." He reached into his robe, and when his hand uncurled again in the light of the candle-crystals, a silver _X_ rested in the palm of the leather glove, the cross inlaid with bands of onyx, the pendant hanging from a delicate chain that glittered in the shadows.

Something flickered in the back of Roxas' mind.

For a moment, the Draco curled his fingers around the necklace, as if he were holding something infinitely precious – and then, looking up, he tossed it through the air, the silver sparkling in a smooth arc until it landed, softly, in Roxas' outstretched palm, the chain falling over the sides of his hand, hanging down like a trickle of silver water.

"That belongs to you, Prince," the man whispered, as if, if he were any louder, his voice would break, letting loose a hundred thousand tears. Roxas looked up, startled – both at the tone of voice, so at odds with…With _him_, and with the title he'd been given.

His fingers closed reflexively over the necklace. "What…What did you call me?" He asked softly, eyes wide in confusion, something teasing him in the back of his mind…A shattered memory.

The General gave a weak smile. "Someday you'll remember, Roxas. I'm sorry, but I'm not strong enough to destroy the spell-net around your memories. I wish I was…I…" His fists clenched, and he looked down for a moment, fighting with himself, before lifting agonised eyes to Roxas. "I'm sorry, Roxas. If I could, I'd take you with me, but Sephiroth values you too much. We wouldn't get as far as the Darkness before he caught us, not with his seeking spell on you. I'm so, so sorry…"

He took a step forward, hand outstretched, and for a moment Roxas thought he might kiss him again, and he ached for it, started to take a step forward to meet his halfway, but the Draco stopped, curling his fingers back into a fist and letting it fall to his side, his face a mask of undiluted longing, regret only highlighting it, like the setting for a jewel.

"I'm sorry, Roxas," he whispered again, before, as if he had to force himself, he turned and started to walk away, shoulders high and tense, head just a little bowed. As if he had to get away, had to go into some dark corner where he could cry.

"Wait!"

He turned back, his face looking back over his shoulder. "What is it?"

"I…" Roxas swallowed, holding the pendant more tightly, as if to give himself courage. "I don't even know your name," he said, finally. It was weak, not what he wanted to say. But he didn't have the words for the burning ache, the tears that were illogically blurring his vision.

The man smiled. "Axel, Roxas. It's Axel."

Without another word, he vanished into the dark halls, the candle-crystals snuffed out as he approached.

And Roxas, after a moment or two of staring, dazed, into the shadows, all but ran back to his room. Where he cried, on his own, holding the pendant like a life-line.

Cried without knowing why.


	4. Surrounded On All Sides

_Why, hello again! Thank-you to everyone who reviewed – you really are the most wonderful reviewers! I'd also like to point out something about myself – people have been commenting on how fast I update. Don't worry, I'm not (sadly) non-Human, it's just that when I start a story, I write A LOT of it very fast. I do slow down, once it's going strong, so things will slow down after the seventh chapter or so. _

_Also – please remember, I haven't actually played the KH games. Anything that sounds familiar – like the Nothing that is Something mentioned below – isn't intended to be like the Nothingness in the game. It's something from the Web, that I dreamed up years ago. It's very different, from what I understand._

_Anyway – enjoy, and please review! Sora in the next chapter!!!_

* * *

_Chapter Three – Surrounded On All Sides_

Sephiroth raked hungry eyes up and down his pet's body, admiring the flattering cut of the casual clothes – the yellow, black-trimmed sleeveless, slashes of ebony flaring down his sides, tight to his defined chest, abruptly dissolving into dark blue denim jeans – again, deliciously tight. His hands were gloved, conspicuous on his bare arms, black as his eyes.

Yes, about those…Sephiroth frowned. To give Riku a fair chance – mental snort – he couldn't be masquerading as a Human with eyes like carved onyx orbs, now could he?

The Flame rose from his throne, pouring grace through his body so that his stride across the marble-tiled floor, a black-and-silver chessboard, was lavishly sensual, and he watched with a smirk as his assembled generals struggled to keep their watch appropriate. They all knew what happened if their Lord became displeased.

It wasn't pleasant.

"Riku," Sephiroth murmured, cupping his chin. "You're all dressed up. You look quite the little Human now, pet."

His Lord's touch returning his emotion, his feelings, Riku flinched as the pale fingers grasped his chin, black eyes flashing with fear as he struggled not to move. There was a ripple of laughter that swept around the oval chamber, the circle of watching high-ups murmuring their amusement as they watched with cold, appraising eyes, hands respectfully held behind their backs.

Sephiroth smirked, and off to the side Roxas fought not to snarl, to call on his own powers and throw his Lord across the room. He could do it, too – Sephiroth never kept up shields around himself, and Roxas would catch him unprepared…

And not live to revel in his victory. Where would that leave Riku?

Pale fingers travelled slowly downwards, trailing down the Rose's throat, the polished, manicured nails whispering against Riku's skin. The assembled generals – Dark Bloods, the entirety of them – could smell the fear and revulsion pouring from their Lord's favourite pet, even as he was forced to stand still, to endure it.

When Roxas couldn't stand it anymore, Sephiroth let his hand fall, smiling with teeth bared as Riku shuddered, unable to control himself. Black eyes closed in anguish – and when they opened again, they were shining blue.

Another murmur ran through the generals, this one appreciative of the strong Glamour their Lord had cast on his pet, the illusion to cover his eyes.

But they all noticed he hadn't given him his true colour back, the beautiful, heart-ache emerald that had once shone out from that perfect face.

Roxas noticed too, but said nothing. What _could _he say? He was lucky Sephiroth was even allowing him to leave – and that was only because he had no choice. Riku had the right to choose one of those who accompanied him – and he had chosen Roxas.

But now Sephiroth was turning away from the trembling boy standing in the centre of the circle, turning to his generals. There was a tension-building pause while he did nothing, just looked at them all, pivoting on his heel slowly to meet each pair of eyes – and then he threw his arms out, as if to call down lightning from the sky.

"You all know why we are here, Sparks of the Shadow!" He called out, grinning as they watched him with respect…With fear. "You have all served me well these centuries, leading my armies to victory after victory. The weakest have been purged from your ranks, leaving me with the strongest. The purest Dark-Bloods."

He seemed to look each and every one of them in the eye at that moment. "The _best_."

They said nothing, glad the deep hoods of their robes hid their expressions from him.

"And now, it is time for your reward." He went on, his voice carrying to every part of the chamber, sounding to each as if he were talking to them alone. "The best among you is to accompany the Rose of the Twilight to Earth, where he will attempt to fulfil the Last Clause of the Balance."

This time, they whispered, even daring to glance at each other in awe and confusion. It had been assumed that their Lord would be the one at his pet's side, not one of their own.

Sephiroth smirked. They were not as well-versed in the Laws as he was – bar one.

And it was this one he called on now.

"Xemnas!" He called, lowering his arms until it seemed they were open, welcoming, for the man to run into a hug. "Xemnas, brightest of the Sparks! Step forward and claim your due!"

Roxas watched with sharp eyes as one of the black-robed figures stepped out of the circle, taking a step towards his Lord. Reaching up, he gently tugged his hood back, and the light of the candle-crystals shone on his hair –

Dull silver.

Inwardly, Roxas cursed. He didn't know all of Sephiroth's generals – his 'Sparks' – but he knew what silver hair meant. Silver meant _power_, it meant _strength_. Enough magik in a body of flesh and blood burned the colour of your hair away – and eventually dyed your eyes into one of the five shades of magik: sapphire blue, gleaming violet, heart's-blood red, cat's-eye amber – and star-fire green.

_This_ guy – Xemnas – had silver hair, _and _amber eyes. Admittedly, both were dark, not sparkling bright like Sephiroth's, and that was something, at least.

And hadn't his Lord called him the best among his generals?

This wasn't good.

But Xemnas had already crossed the floor, was already kneeling at Sephiroth's feet, head bowed, dark silver hair brushing across the sides of his face. "My Lord, I am honoured that you would entrust me with such a task."

The Flame nodded his acceptance of the gratitude. Extending his right hand over the Vampire, Sephiroth intoned, "Rise, Xemnas, and accept the mission."

Slowly, with a grace even Roxas appreciated, Xemnas rose to his feet, robe swirling around him elegantly, head still bowed as he replied, "My Lord, I accept, and thank you again for your graciousness in selecting me."

Once again, Sephiroth nodded, pleased – before turning back to the circle around him, his expression abruptly dissolving into calm hatred, cold heat. "And as we recognise the best among you, I would have you know the worst."

No one spoke, no one moved, all of them no doubt terrified that it was their name about to be spoken, to be dropped carelessly from their Lord's lips. All but Xemnas – who was now standing behind the Flame, arms clasped behind his back, head lowered in a mockery of respect – a mask to hide the arrogance he bled to the others in the room, fooling no one.

Sephiroth cast his arms out again to his Generals, the leaders of his armies. "Where is General Axel, my faithful servants, my Sparks? Where is the wingless Draco?

A tensing of shoulders, then rushed, hurried glances – to the side, across the circle, along the curving line of black-robed Dark-Bloods. No where, under no hood, was there a flash of blood-red hair and jade-green eyes. None of them could see the burning sea-green tattoos on his cheekbones.

It was Xemnas, after scanning the circle himself, answered the question. "My Lord, the General Axel is not present."

Sephiroth looked over his shoulder at him for a moment, still and cold; and for that drawn-out instant it would not have been foolish to fear for Xemnas' life.

But the Flame broke gazes with his right-hand man, instead looking back to his soldiers. "That is correct. The General Axel is gone, vanished from this castle! A traitor to the shadows!" He spat it out, as if the very idea of treachery were distasteful to him – no, as if it were foul and poisonous in his mouth.

It did not seem to taste any better to the Sparks – they muttered among themselves, amazed and watchful, arrogant and, at the same time, amused.

Because a traitor meant a blood-hunt. And when they caught him, they would make the scars marring his back look like nothing more than paper-cuts.

They quietened instantly when their Lord raised a hand, as if they were puppets to his strings, dancing to the tune of his flickering fingers.

"You know what this means, Generals," he told them, more quietly, the epitome of calm, of indifference – except for the dark anticipation in his eyes. "The one who brings me Axel's life-blood on his blade will be rewarded with a…_Princely_ prize."

His eyes glimmered with sick amusement as his Generals laughed amongst themselves, low murmurs full of that same amusement and anticipation running around the circle; and Roxas stiffened, casting a confused glance at Sephiroth.

Didn't…Hadn't Axel called him a Prince, last night? Did Sephiroth mean _he_ was the reward?

The look his Lord gave him when he met his gaze said he'd guessed right.

Roxas looked away quickly, unable to stand under the onslaught of the too-green eyes. Like noxious acid, the smoke that burned the back of your throat so you couldn't even breathe.

_Please,_ he whispered silently, forcing himself not to reach for the pendant around his neck, under his shirt, _don't let that happen. Don't let Axel be killed. Don't let Sephiroth give me to one of them. Please._

"But moving on…" The Flame turned to the still-trembling boy on the other side of him. "Riku, it is time to open a portal to Earth. Have you chosen your destination?"

Roxas held his breath. This choice, more than anything else, was on what would hinge Riku's fate. There was _one _Human that could both love and be loved by Riku. _One_. One Human, in one place.

Get the place wrong, and Riku would never find his love.

Get the place wrong, and Riku would serve Sephiroth forever.

Riku seemed to calm down, draw on hidden reserves of strength as he looked his master straight in the eye, as he stopped shaking.

"England, my Lord," Riku said, his voice growing stronger with each word. "London, in fact."

A few murmurs, but not many. There was no reason to choose the place, but no reason not to, either. If Roxas guessed right, Riku had probably conjured a map of Earth into his room last night, closed his eyes, and let his necklace fall onto the parchment – the silver crown, his most precious possession. The one thing he had walked out of the Darkness with, he was never seen without it, and even Sephiroth had never touched it.

So the heart-crown had fallen on London, had it? Roxas shrugged inwardly, shifting the weight of the satchel on his back. As good a place as any, really.

Sephiroth nodded slowly, then stepped back, giving Riku more than enough room to conjure a portal. "Then begin your final quest, pet. I'll see you one month from now."

Avoiding looking at his master, Riku nodded too, then flung his hands out in front of him, so fast a small breeze wove itself from the air to wind about his arms. The Generals flinched, but Roxas and Sephiroth didn't move, simply watched the Wind-Weaver at his craft.

The breeze grew stronger, thicker, wilder, until it slipped from Riku's arms to circle him, leaving a glowing line of sea-green light in its wake, a glittering, shining circle etched into the chequer-board floor around the Rose. The winds hissed, whirling like wild things as they drew and re-drew the same circle, wider and wider until it was enough to hold six people, never mind the three that were actually going to step into it.

The air grew thicker, as if they all stood in some dripping jungle, where the heat blocked your throat and your chest. As if thunder and lightning were gathering in the arched shadows of the ceiling, hidden in the darkness that the candle-crystals couldn't pierce. The tension grew almost unbearable – stretched further and further, the spring coiling tighter and tighter until Roxas wanted to scream, wanted to answer the call echoing through his blood, the power, the pure, raw strength of it screaming through his mortal body.

The Call of the Winds. The Call magik couldn't _not_ answer.

As sudden as a bone snapping, as a neck breaking – as sudden as death – light flashed up from the circle on the floor, bright sea-green flames reaching for the darkened ceiling with hungry fingers, hissing their displeasure when they couldn't reach high enough. The Generals flinched – many of them even stepped back, still not used to the amazing feats of power their Lord's pet displayed before them.

Sephiroth just watched it all, with hungry eyes.

Riku was drawn taunt as a bowstring, his back arched into nothing, now-blue eyes rolled up into his skull, the whites gleaming eerily in the light from the crystals. His hands were out before him, palm-up, fingers splayed and crackling with whirring bolts of green energy, flickering and spitting as they coiled around his fingers. The same baby-lightnings adorned his neck, a collar of emerald thunder, reaching up like tendrils of ivy to mesh about his face, braid into his silver hair, static with power, flowing as though the Rose were underwater.

And then, suddenly, his arms jerked upwards, just an inch or so; but the Winds understood his meaning, as they always did and always would.

The flames died down, until they were just jade embers on the black-and-silver marble. In their place was a crackling net reaching to twice Sephiroth's height, thick and impenetrable, a woven wall of violet and black shot through with silver. Thicker silver ropes pulled and twisted at the mesh of contained Darkness to form an archway, an entrance into the portal for Roxas and Xemnas.

Since Riku was already inside.

Hesitating not a moment, Xemnas turned to his Lord, bowed over his extended hand, briefly pressing his cold lips to the silver ring there, and strode through the archway into the portal.

Roxas followed him, trying to avoid meeting anyone's eyes – especially the hot, burning gazes of the Generals interested in Sephiroth's offer.

Pausing for a second, half a step into the portal, Roxas took a deep breath and looked up, away from his feet.

Straight into Riku's eyes.

The black spheres were emotionless again, the walls of solid Darkness that surrounded him on all sides cutting him off from Sephiroth – and, thus, his emotions. He held his hands out before him, his concentration on keeping the silver in the net of violet and black – intent on keeping them safe, so that the Darkness didn't overcome them and their souls dissolved into the Web.

As he stared into those blank eyes, Roxas realised that Riku couldn't do this on his own. Even if he wouldn't go so far as to truly believe he was the Rose's friend – it wasn't possible, when one half of the equation had no emotions and the other had no memory before his arrival to Sephiroth's castle – he knew he was needed. Xemnas would be doing everything in his power to make sure Riku didn't succeed – and Riku couldn't even understand why people cried. How could he understand love?

Riku needed him.

So he stepped through the archway, and refused to flinch when it slammed closed behind him, the walls reaching up over their heads to enclose them in a glimmering, shining sphere of black and violet.

Shot through with gleaming silver.

)0(

Take us where we will arrive unseen_, ran the whispers, murmuring through the velvet Darkness, uttered with the voice of the Winds. _Unseen and safe. Take me to where my lover lies.

_Whisper whisper, whisper whisper…The Winds spoke, and murmured, and whistled softly to themselves, to each other, to the velvet Darkness…_

_And the Darkness heard. The Darkness listened. _

_The Darkness answered._

_It carried the crystalline sphere through itself, gently pushing the shining ball, like a child's toy, through the velvet mist, the electrifying emptiness that was full. The Nothing that was Something. The Something that was Everything._

_The sphere was pushed and pulled and tugged along a single, shining thread of Web, a diamond-strand of braided blue and silver, diamond and iridescent gold, glowing with a Light. It slid along it, guided by the Winds that guarded it, encircled it, and by the Darkness itself. _

_Until it reached a bead on the thread, a World on the Web, and, far, far away from Sephiroth and his circle of Generals, there was a flash of light behind a closed door – and three non-Humans appeared on a world without magik. _


	5. The Welcoming Committee

_This chapter wasn't meant to turn out like this. There was MEANT to be more Sora! )mutters to muse( Ah well. I still liked how this turned out. Chapter six, I think, will be people's favourite so far. )grins and claps hands( _

_But on with the show!_

* * *

_Chapter Four – The Welcoming Committee_

"Sora, what do you think about this one?"

Sora looked up from the clothes rack, where he'd been idly searching for a new jumper. "I don't know, Cloud. Does it matter?"

His older brother frowned, before turning his head back to the clothes, his long, spiked-up blonde hair standing out amongst all the dark-haired people in GAP, making Sora feel exposed. It wasn't as if he were some non-entity that would fade into the background, either – his hair stuck up just as spiky as his brother's did, and his eyes were such a bright blue people were always asking if he wore coloured contacts.

Sighing, he pushed the hangers away from him on the rack. "Do we really have to do this, Cloud?"

Mimicking his sigh, his brother picked up their basket. "For the last time, _yes_, Sora. If I bring you home without at least four outfits, mom's going to throw a fit." He frowned as his little brother started to giggle. "What?"

"Nothing." Sora tried to swallow his laughter, ducking into a row of soft blue jumpers to hide his expression. Cloud was dressed – as per usual – in black leather, all over. Sleeveless black jacket, studded with snarling wolf-heads on each shoulder, the genuine silver exquisitely moulded, and tight trousers that matched. A corduroy zip-up, its high collar reaching almost to his ears, completed the outfit.

Not the kind of person you expect to see carrying a shopping basket. Maybe someone in a motor-bike gang, or something – but not in GAP, looking for clothes for his little brother.

Sora sighed again, mournfully, glancing longingly towards the door. He _hated_ clothes shopping – but it was much better with his brother than their mom.

Intercepting his glance outside, Cloud rolled his eyes. "Fine. Go try this lot on, and then we'll go, ok?"

Grinning, Sora almost snatched the pile of clothes from Cloud's arms, leaving the basket – full of clothes that they were, without doubt, going to buy. "Thanks Cloud!" He threw over his shoulder as he ran towards the changing rooms, quickly slipping into a cubicle and slamming the bolt behind him. Ignoring the hooks for the hangers, he dumped the pile of cloth and fabric on the green stool provided and started to unbutton his jacket.

)0(

Riku blinked. And blinked again.

As he lowered his hands to his sides, the Darkness-bubble dissolved into sparkles, like the trail of fireworks through the night sky – and then faded quickly into nothing.

At his side, Xemnas looked around the cramped space, noticing the wall-length mirror at their back's and the handful of hooks on the wall. "Where are we, Rose?"

Roxas looked about him, turning slowly on his heel, pausing when he saw his reflection, startled by the unexpected appearance of…Well, himself. But he answered the General's question, quietly.

"It's a changing room, General."

"A what?" Xemnas frowned at him, then at his reflection. "It's not nearly large enough to be a chamber, Roxas."

The blonde shrugged, rubbing circles on the strap of his satchel with his thumb. "They're Humans, General. They're not very intelligent."

Xemnas nodded thoughtfully, before closing his eyes and raising his hand to the mirror, making a motion as if he were wiping away condensation on the glass. Tiny sparks of amber light darted from his fingertips to the mirror, flowing downwards like water to alter the reflection. The black robes moulded like damp clay into a pair of plain navy-blue trousers, loosely cut but not uncomfortably so, while the upper half of the silken cloth simply wound about his chest, tightening, the cloth shrivelling to become skin-tight, revealing well-defined muscles. His black leather boots, reaching halfway up to his knees, remained the same, with silver lace-ups and studs.

All in all, it looked…A bit weird. But there was no way Roxas was going to say anything, and Riku wouldn't care.

Inspecting his reflection, Roxas couldn't find anything wrong with his own outfit. His sleeveless shirt was camouflage-green cotton, unadorned, the jacket white with short sleeves, trimmed in iron-grey. The collar was dyed a dark red, and the necklace Axel had given him was hiding beneath his shirt.

His trousers matched – until just above his knees, they were the same green as his shirt, before they turned silver until they ended over his converse, black and red. All he'd asked for in his spell was an outfit that would look Human while looking good.

Shifting the satchel on his shoulder again, Roxas turned to Riku. "Should we go?"

"One moment," Xemnas interrupted, giving a sharp gesture. "How do you know so much about Humans?"

Roxas, reaching for the bolt on the door, shrugged. "I spend a lot of time in the library. There's not much else to do when you don't really serve Sephiroth."

He started to open the door, but jumped back when it slammed shut against his hand.

"Are you trying to be smart with me, boy?" Xemnas hissed, the air abruptly growing harder to breathe.

Roxas didn't know what to say – he hadn't been trying to be cheeky, but once he was away from Sephiroth and his Sparks – or most of them, anyway – he felt a lot more relaxed. Not so formal – not so scared.

Riku turned false-blue eyes on the General. "We're not here by Sephiroth's rules now, Xemnas," he said, quietly, calmly. As if it were of no importance to him, one way or the other. "Anything any of us does here is out of his hands. Roxas cannot be punished for anything he does or says while on a Quest. I recommend you remember that."

For a moment, amber eyes met blue, and Roxas held his breath, resting his hand on the door. What was Xemnas doing? If he did anything – _anything_ – to Riku, Sephiroth would skin him alive.

Literally.

Finally, with a _snap_ in tension, Xemnas looked away from the Rose, back to Roxas. "What are you doing? Open the door already!"

Swallowing, Roxas did as ordered, stepping back to pull the door open, tightening his grip on his pack as he stepped out into the brightly-lit hallway, lines with mirrors and doors – to more cubicles, he assumed. A handful of Humans, mostly women, were inspecting their reflections, turning back and forth to see themselves from different directions. Two women, dressed all in black, uniform-like skirt and shirt, with white nametags on their shoulders, seemed to be helping, giving opinions.

The three of them got a few odd looks when they walked through them – and more than a few appreciative glances. Roxas shifted uneasily, feeling nervous as they all stared at him. What for? Being blonde and blue-eyed wasn't unusual – or was it, among Humans?

Thankfully, most of the people were more interested in Riku and Xemnas – _it's as if they've never seen silver hair before!_ Roxas muttered to himself, stepping over a pile of discarded clothes, making for the open doorway into the rest of the store.

A hand landed on his shoulder, and he whirled, reaching for his magik before a voice hissed in his ear.

"We're among Humans, Roxas! Quell your power!"

Swallowing nervously, Roxas did – again – as ordered, relaxing even under Xemnas' furious gaze. It was relief too know Xemnas couldn't report anything he did to Sephiroth…"What is it?"

The General turned his head, nodding his chin at something behind him. "It's the Rose. Look!"

Frowning, Roxas stepped to the side so he could see past the silver-haired Vampire – and froze.

Riku was standing just outside the door of the cubicle they'd arrived in, arms crossed, leaning against the wall gracefully, one foot pressed to the wall behind him so his leg was bent. He looked like a model posing for a photo-shoot.

Except he wasn't looking at a camera.

Turning to follow his gaze, Roxas saw a Human boy, looking about his age, standing in front of one of the mirrors. His hair was long and spiky, a golden-brown colour, set in the same style as the black-garbed boy beside him. The one in black was obviously older, being about a foot and a half taller if not more, and he was tugging on the sleeves of a red jacket the younger was trying on.

"Cloud, come _ooooon!_ Can we just go? It's never going to fit!"

Frowning, Roxas turned back to Riku – and jerked backwards, almost falling as his eyes locked onto the Rose's face, and he would have cried out if Xemnas hadn't covered his mouth with a smooth glove, hissing at him to be quiet.

Riku looked…Riku looked _hungry._

)0(

"Axel? Axel, you there?"

The Draco pressed a fingertip against the headset in his ear. "Yes, Demyx, I'm here. Just like I was ten minutes ago, and the ten before that. What's up?"

The Fey didn't waste his words – a sure sign something important was going on. "The Rose has arrived."

Instantly, Axel was all business. "Where?"

"England, London. Leon's downloading the coordinates into your headset as we speak."

Sure enough, behind Demyx's voice Axel could hear a soft, female voice. _"Download completed. Download completed."_

"Where are you now?" Demyx continued. "Leon said you were the closest one to London."

"I am," Axel confirmed, walking away from the high street, looking for a back alley where he could create a portal. "I'm in New York. I'm looking for somewhere to leave from now."

A sigh. "And Leon's in Australia. How come _I_ got India?!"

Slipping into the shadows, Axel grinned. "Because we know how much you love spicy…_things_, Demyx."

He could almost see the Fey glaring at him. "Whatever, Axel. Just go! We'll meet up with you in the London safe house, ok?"

Axel looked at his wrist, at the Human timepiece strapped around it, the gold roman numerals on the jade watch-face almost invisible in the dark of the alley way. "About four?"

"Your time or mine?"

Reaching out towards the wall with his palm, Axel reached for his power. "Mine, you idiot."

Over the connection, he heard Demyx huff. "I'm not staying to be insulted! I'm _going!_"

"You do that," Axel agreed, drawing an archway of burning red and gold light on the brick wall with his fingertip. "Just make sure you meet up with Leon, all right? I'll see you in London."

"See yah, Axel."

With a click, the Fey disconnected, just as the arch of light filled with smooth, clear energy, the heat of it warming his face, and, resting his hands on either side of the wall, he stuck his head through, just to make sure he'd got it right.

England. Yep. He ducked back out before anyone could see him, working in the coordinates into his spell as he stepped through, shutting it with an oiled click behind him.

)0(

"Fine," Cloud sighed, tugging the jacket off, mock-frowning at Sora's gleeful squeal. "Can you at least _try_ to act mature? At least in public?"

His little brother grinned up at him. "Nope!" Laughing, he grabbed his schoolbag – Cloud had picked him up from the academy before dragging him around what felt the entire shopping district in London – and ran towards the doorway out of the changing rooms, melting the frowning assistant's heart with his patented little-boy smile.

But he was running too fast – as he was smiling at said assistant, he tripped over a customer's handbag. Arms flying out in front of him, he cried out, bracing himself for the fall.

A hand grabbed his arm, easily swinging him upright again with a fluid strength, and Sora found himself face to face with a silver-haired boy, eyes almost as bright a blue as his staring back at him.

"Are you all right?"

Sora nodded, righting his balance, staring pointedly at the hand on his shoulder until understanding dawned, and the boy slowly took his hand away, hitching it in the belt loops of his trousers casually.

"Thanks," Sora muttered, suddenly shy. He didn't do that well around strangers, which was why he only had a handful of real friends, and he avoided meeting those startling blue eyes.

"You're welcome," the other murmured, staring at his face until Sora grew uncomfortable, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

"Guess I'd better get going," Sora offered, darting a look towards his older brother – which Cloud received.

The blonde, walking up to them with basket in hand, glanced from one boy to the other. "Who's this, Sora?" He asked, and his brother could have glared at him. Cloud was always encouraging him to make more friends, but this _really_ wasn't the time. There was something a bit…off, about this guy.

Two pairs of blue eyes, one welcoming and one sullen, looked questioningly at the silver-haired.

"Riku," he said, after a pause. "My name's Riku."

"Hey Riku!" Cloud said brightly, extending his hand. "I'm Cloud, and this is my little brother Sora."

Riku stared at Cloud's outstretched hand as if it were going to bite him, until, confused, Cloud lowered it.

"Um…Ok," Cloud said slowly. "I guess we'd better go, Sora –"

"Riku!"

All three turned towards the new voice. A blonde boy, hair much shorter than any of the others', was walking up to them, and Sora found himself liking this new arrival instantly. He was much more…Relaxed, open, than the silver-haired.

"Hi," he smiled brightly at Sora and his brother. "I'm Roxas, Riku's foster-brother. Riku, aren't you going to introduce me?"

Blue eyes blinked twice, before Riku seemed to wake up. Inclining his head towards each of the named, he pointed them out. "This is Cloud, and Sora, his brother. And this is Roxas."

Roxas flickered a glance towards each of them, and Sora shuffled again. While he was more…Normal than his brother, Roxas stared at each of them with a very intent, questioning look, as if he were debating something incredibly important about each of them.

Cloud cleared his throat, switching the basket to his other hand. "Well, it's been nice meeting you, but we kind of need to go. Sorry, guys. Maybe we'll see you again, sometime…"

He turned away, but before Sora – relieved to get away from that intense gaze of the silver-haired boy – could follow him, Roxas asked, "Hey, Sora?"

"Yeah?" Sora asked, mentally rolling his eyes. Would these weirdoes just go already?

But if he could read minds, that didn't seem to stop the blonde. "What school do you go to? We just moved here, and, well, maybe we go to the same one as you…" He trailed off, and Sora was already hoping that fate would be kinder to him than this.

"The Croydon Academy for Gifted Students," he answered, unsure suddenly if he wanted to see them again. Riku was really starting to freak him out, with that look…

But Roxas seemed nice, and he was smiling brightly. "Hey! That's where we're going too! Guess we'll see you there, huh?"

Sora's stomach dropped. "Yeah…Yeah, I guess you will. Sorry, but I've really gotta go. Bye!"

Turning, he ran towards his brother without a backwards glance. He wasn't sure what was scaring him so badly, but something told him he really didn't want to find out.

)0(

There was a dull flash behind a closed door, and between one step and the next Axel walked out of the cubicle, already dressed in Human clothes from his watch in New York – a black hoodie jumper, with stylishly torn and ripped denim jeans, runners trainers topping it off.

The first thing he saw in his sweep of the room was Roxas, the blonde standing beside the Rose, both of them with their backs to the Draco. A sudden ache stabbed him, and if they had been in the darkened corridors again he probably wouldn't have been able to resist his longing.

But the second thing was another man with silver hair, standing to one side of the pair of teenagers, arms crossed and his face a mask of arrogance and contempt for the Humans around him.

Swearing, Axel ducked back into the stall, praying Xemnas hadn't seen him. That was the last thing he needed.

He should have known Sephiroth would send Xemnas. Of course he would – the strongest of the Sparks? Who else would he have trusted with his pet?

Raising his hand to his ear, he pressed his headset, listening to the whirr and crackle of the crystal-magik.

And then a gentle click. "Hello?"

"Hey, it's Axel."

"Axel?" Leon's voice turned hard. "What's wrong? Demyx was supposed to tell you – the Rose is –"

"In London, I know. He's right outside the room I'm in." Axel interrupted, peering through the crack in the door. Damn it – Xemnas was still there. "But Xemnas is with him."

"What?!" The Luparri sounded shocked – a sure sign it was serious. Leon was never surprised or scared.

"Yeah, I know." Shit – Xemnas was staring at this door. "I should have guessed, really, but I don't know how to get to the Rose now. And the bloody bastard is looking at my door."

Leon swore, with such creativity Axel raised his eyebrows. "Get out of there, Axel! We'll have to get to him later. You can't risk jeopardising the mission. We'll have other chances."

Axel gritted his teeth. "Leon, he's got Roxas."

There was a stunned silence, before the Luparri sighed. "Axel, I know this is hard for you, but the Rose is more important. And if Xemnas sees you, he'll never let him out of his sight. We won't have a chance."

Axel said nothing, fighting with himself.

Leon's voice turned softer. "Axel, he doesn't know you. He doesn't remember you – Sephiroth Netted his memories after he had him kidnapped. You know that. You don't mean anything to him anymore."

"That's not true!" Axel choked out, clenching his hands into fists. "He – he _has_ to remember. You can't just _forget_ something like that!" He fought not to smash his fist into the door, crumpling the wood like paper. "_Fifteen years,_ Leon! And that _bastard_ just ripped them out of his mind!"

He snarled, glaring at his reflection in the mirror, before he crumpled inwards, fighting tears. "It hurts, Leon. It hurts so gods-damn-much…"

Leon sighed. "I know, Axel – I know. It'll be ok. We'll get Roxas' memories back, but right now we have to save the Rose. Sephiroth will have Riku kill Roxas if there's no one to challenge his claim at the Eclipse. You know that – its tradition. The best friend is killed by the blade of his friend."

Axel grit his teeth again. "Fine. Meet me in the London safe house in one hour."

"I'll see you there." Leon hesitated. "Axel, don't do anything rash, ok?"

Despite himself, the Draco grinned. "I promise not to do anything stup –"

He froze, seeing something in the reflection of the mirror, through the crack in the door.

"Axel?"

He didn't answer – his eyes blazed with sudden, hot fury.

"Axel?" Leon sounded desperate. "Axel! What are you –"

With a flick of his wrist, Axel cut off the flow of magik into the crystalline headset, and with a quiet whirr it announced that it had switched off.

Unhooking the headset from its place curled around his ear, he pocketed it, turned on his heel, and threw the door wide open, shooting out tendrils of Time-Freeze to wrap around the Humans in the room. Between one step and another, the weaker minds had fallen dark, each of them asleep where they stood.

Unfortunate that it didn't work on stronger Peoples.

Like the silver-haired Vampire whose blood was going to paint the walls.

)0(

Xemnas watched with sharp eyes as the two Humans walked away, wondering which one of them had attracted the Rose's attention.

His amber eyes raked up and down the blonde. He knew how to pull off black leather, that was for sure…And the silver wolf-heads had intrigued him. Was he as wild as his façade seemed to say he was? Would he fight as hard as a cornered wolf when the blood was dripping into his striking blue eyes?

How hard would it be to break him?

The General eyed the Human boy as he walked away. He'd love to find out.

A flash of light caught his eye, and he turned, startled, towards the sudden brightness.

It was gone in an instant, but not fast enough – the Vampire had seen the base of the door outlined with gold and red.

He frowned, cocking his head for a moment as he wondered who would have created a portal to a Human dwelling. Red and gold…That meant a fire-user, so a Demon…Or…

His eyes widened, before he bared his teeth in a silent snarl. Axel! Of course – he must be here to get his precious lover back. He smirked, darting a glance towards Roxas, who was talking softly to the Rose. Too bad the boy didn't remember a thing about the Draco!

Turning back to the door, he caught a glimpse of sharp green before it darted away, and he smirked again. No doubt the idiot wingless hadn't realised Sephiroth would send _him_ to accompany his the Rose. And now he would be sweating and panicking in the square cupboard-like room.

An idea occurred to him, and he almost laughed to himself. This was the perfect way to drive Axel into an illogical fury, killing two birds with one stone – he could easily kill an angry Draco, too furious to think straight, and at the same time win a new bed-partner…At least until he managed to get hold of the blonde Human.

Quickly, ignoring the Humans sending him worried glances – he smirked to himself, glad that the weaklings feared him, even without knowing why – he strode across the room to the Prince and the Rose.

)0(

"Riku, which one of them was it?" Roxas asked softly, trying to keep their conversation from being overheard. "Cloud?" It seemed the logical choice – Riku needed someone who could challenge Sephiroth in a physical fight, and the older brother sure had some muscle.

He'd looked fantastic, as well.

Riku shook his head slowly, eyes still locked onto where the two Humans had vanished through the doorway. "I…I think it was Sora."

Startled, Roxas looked to the doorway. "Sora?!" He wouldn't last seconds against the Flame of the Web!

"Mm hmm…" Riku hummed in response, one hand reaching up to clutch at the heart-crown pendant around his neck, rubbing circles on the smooth metal with the pad of his thumb.

Roxas sighed, running a hand through his hair. There was no point talking to Riku anymore – the Rose was so deep in thought he wouldn't notice anything around him for about an hour, at least. Roxas would have to watch out for him, so Xemnas didn't use his dreamy demeanour for his own advantage…

Brushing a thumb over his mouth, thinking, he didn't realise the Vampire had crossed the floor until he felt a leather glove, tight as a second skin, come to rest on the back of his neck.

"What – ?" He started to turn, raising a hand to push off the General's light weight on his neck, instinctively, but almost before he could draw a breath the Vampire's other hand had hold of both his wrists, his steel-bone fingers like manacles, crushing his light bones until they grated.

Biting his lower lip, Roxas fought to stay silent, glancing beseechingly towards Riku as the palm on his neck moved slightly, so the long, war-scarred fingers curled around his throat, jerking his head back sharply: he bit his lip so hard he tasted blood.

If he made a sound, he would alert Riku that there was something wrong, and Xemnas would be forced to back off. But it might attract undue attention from the Humans around them, and he wasn't sure how they'd react.

As it happened, he needn't have worried. Any of the customers saw nothing unusual but a slight shimmer in the corner of their eyes – just a slightly sullen older brother, perhaps, out with his younger siblings to buy clothes. Xemnas had had no problem convincing the weak, magik-less minds to accept the Glamour he'd placed over the three of them.

But he didn't know that, so he just shut his eyes against the fear-filled tears when a blood-less mouth brushed against the side of his throat. This wasn't like what Axel had done, just last night. This wasn't hot and sparkling, breath-taking. He didn't want this, and he didn't understand. Xemnas liked strong, wild characters in the bedroom, ones he had to fight to break. Roxas wasn't strong, not like that…

"I think I'll enjoy being the one to win you, Prince," Xemnas whispered mockingly, star-splinter fangs nipping at his earlobe, and Roxas shuddered, sick with nausea as the Vampire lapped up the blood tricking down his neck. "I'll take you with the Draco's blood still on my hands, still warm…"

Roxas retched – or tried to. The Vampire's grip on his throat wouldn't let him move his head, but he felt like he was going to be sick, closing his eyes and begging Riku to wake up…

Suddenly, Xemnas gave a cry as his hold was ripped away, and even as Roxas fell to his knees, unable to stand without the Vampire's support, even as Riku turned towards the noise, startled from his thoughts, the General was smashing into the wall, cracks radiating out from his indented form.

)0(

Fire burned hot and bright in Axel's palms, star-white, enough to dissolve a Vampire into nothing but charred bones and ash. His hair flickered like flames, his eyes _blazed_.

"Don't touch him," he snarled, crouching lower, ready to fight. In his mind, his wings flared, aggressive and protective, shielding the blonde boy on the floor behind him; his tail swished from side to side. "Don't you _dare_, you blood-sucking _bastard!_"

Smirking, the Vampire walked out of the wall, calmly brushing brick-dust from the sleeves of his shirt, as if he had all the time in the world.

Axel snarled, fire travelling up his arms, the flames leaving his sleeves unharmed, winding like tendrils of ivy until they covered his body, encased him in chain-mail links of gold and white fire.

Xemnas crouched, ready for battle, veins of night-blue and silver spilling out from his eyes in all directions, growing larger and spreading until a spider-web of threads, hissing and crackling with raw energy, was woven all about him.

There was a tense, lightning-filled pause as they eyed each other up. Waiting.

With a snarl, both warriors lunged for each other, meeting halfway, and the fight began.


	6. Don't You Know Why I Fought?

_Hello again! I'm so glad you all seem to like this story so much! )squees( sorry there's no Sora in this chapter, but there's some in the next one. )grins( So, here's the fight – hope I pulled it off. Feel free to tell me I didn't – it's harder than you'd think to WRITE a battle. Much better when you see it on-screen. But I like it, so…Yeah. Enjoy!_

* * *

_Chapter Five – Don't You Know Why I Fought?_

Sharp claws ripped into his neck, blood gold as sunlight arcing through the air, splattering like modern art across the walls.

Crying out in pain, Axel thrust his hand into Xemnas' face, and the Vampire shrieked as fire flared up in his face, pushing the Draco away and scrabbling at his eyes, his paper-white skin burnt and sore.

Panting, Axel backed up as he landed on his feet, his left hand still cupping the white-hot flames, his other going to his neck, Healing with a few soft words, before throwing his hand out towards Xemnas.

The ball of star-fire hit the General square in the chest, and Axel was half-turned to Roxas when he cried out, falling to the ground.

Xemnas, smirking, his hands smoking where he'd caught the fire to throw it back, sprang at him, ivory claws bared, snarling as he hit the floor, Axel having rolled away from the hit, trying to get the Vampire away from Roxas. Scrabbling to his knees, he raised an arm to block Xemnas' claws, the slash that would have ripped his eyes out cutting into his arm instead.

Gold blood spilled onto the ground as he threw his arm out, sending Xemnas flying backwards, and he took the few seconds to get to his feet, the net of fire feeding flames into his palms, until twin stars burned in his hands, hissing for Vampire blood.

Xemnas eyed the fire warily, before smirking, flinging both hands out towards the Draco warrior. Green eyes widened as thick, snake-like ropes of black and silver braid flew from his outstretched fingers, snapping through the air towards Axel, and even though he whirled to one side a thick tendril clutched at his throat, curving to grab him even as he moved.

Instantly, Xemnas withdrew the ropes, drawing the Draco closer to him. Axel, gasping for breath, grabbed at the black-and-silver braid, grinning as white fire flared up along its length, leaving him unburned but the Vampire screaming as his hands were set alight. He had no choice but to cut the magik, letting Axel fall to his feet, gloving his burnt hands in a layer of bloodied-violet before lunging forward again, hissing as he swiped a hand through the air, missing Axel's face by an inch as the Draco jumped back.

)0(

"Axel? Axel! What are you doing? Axel!"

Damn it! Leon swore in Luparr, connecting to Demyx as fast as possible.

"Hey, Demyx here. What's up?" Came the bubbly voice of the sparky Fey, suddenly grating instead of amusing.

"We have to get to London," Leon snapped, already drawing a portal against the back of a restaurant. "Axel's about to do something stupid."

"What?" Leon could picture the Fey frowning. "Axel never does anything stupid. He always rushes in and saves the day, remember?"

"Well, he's going to do something idiotic now!" Leon snarled, filling the portal with misty grey light with a slash of his hand. "Look, I'm about to step through, so you're going to lose the signal. You've got the coordinates, right?"

"Yep. I'll see you in a few seconds."

"Good." Cutting the connection, Leon stepped through the archway of forest-mist-grey, slamming it shut as he vanished.

)0(

Axel raised his hands in front of him, empty of fire, and made a pushing motion – Xemnas slammed back into the opposite wall, gasping, struggling against an invisible hold, before seeming to rip free, snarling, slashing his hand down, from head-height to his waist, and when his hand came up again it was clutching at a sword of midnight-blue light, the blade long and slim, sharp enough to cut through air.

Axel snorted. "You want to go traditional? Fine. I can do that." Smirking, he flung his hands out to the side of his waist, flicking his thumbs, and, snapping his wrists, whirled the disc-blades crackling with flames, the wide red circles spiked and large as shields.

Without warning, he threw the left one, letting it spin through the air almost too fast to see, and Xemnas ducked, bringing up his sword to bat it away. It crashed into the wall of mirrors, sending shards of glass to fall to the ground in a shower of sparkle, before, still spinning, it flew back to Axel's outstretched hand.

Xemnas grinned, before running forward, swinging his blade as he came, leaping aside at the last moment to spin and turn, his sword coming down on Axel's back, a gaping line opening in the flesh, a spray of candle-flame blood staining his old scars as he fell to the ground, gasping.

As the General brought his blade down again, it met the metal of Axel's crossed discs, the screech of metal harsh in the otherwise silent room, and the Vampire was pushed back, springing for the Draco again before Axel could do more than get to his knees.

This time, Axel was ready, and as a three-fold rope of flame flung itself into the Vampire's face his crossed discs caught the black blade between them, ripping it away and flinging it across the room, where it clattered against one of the walls. While Xemnas was still in shock, the Draco threw his weight behind his discs, pushing the Vampire back as he stood up, throwing him into the wall and following him, ropes of flame winding about the Vampire's wrists, his neck, his waist and ankles, pinning him completely.

He struggled, faint wisps of black smoke puffing up from his wrists, but too much of his magik was drawn into making sure the bands of flame didn't burn him too much – Vampires were especially susceptible to fire, their skin burning almost as well as paper – and he didn't have the strength to throw Axel's magik off.

It didn't help that Axel wasn't even draining his own strength. Using a racial-power wasn't the same as using magik, gods-damn it.

Axel smirked as he approached, swinging a disc up to press against the Vampire's throat. "Any last words, bastard?"

)0(

Leon hit the ground running, barely noticing Demyx's appearance a moment after him as he slammed the door wide open, flicking his wrist to summon a long, thick sword, a snarling lion adorning the hilt as he swung his arm up, ready for a fight.

Taking in the scene in an instant, he jerked his left hand towards the two boys to the side of the fight, and, nodding, Demyx ran for them, his long blue blade rippling through the air as he moved to stand guard over the Rose and the Prince. Leon, meanwhile, shot across the floor to pull Axel's arm back.

"Axel, you idiot, don't!" He yelled, throwing his weight back to pull the razor-sharp disc away from the General's throat. "Weren't you _listening_ when Zexion briefed us?!"

Turning his head, the Draco snarled, raising the hand not pressed against the Vampire's neck, flinging it in Leon's face. Yelling, the Luparri was jerked away, smashing into the corner of the room with a groan, his sword falling from suddenly limp fingers to the ground.

"Leon!" Demyx shouted, and took a step towards the Luparri – but he hesitated, looking back at the Rose, still standing, arms crossed, watching as though he'd seen it all before. The Fey shivered, looking away – but he stayed put, his face a mask of indecision, clenching his sword with pale knuckles.

Axel hissed into the General's face, making the Vampire flinch. "I don't give a _damn_ what that book-worm told us – _I want him dead_."

"Axel, think for a second!" Demyx said, coaxingly, lowering his blade. "If you kill him, you've killed a Questor. That breaks the Laws – which means _Sephiroth_ doesn't have to follow them either. He can come to Earth, or he can kill anyone the Rose has an interest in. Then where will we be?"

The Draco snarled again. "I _don't care!_ You didn't – you didn't see what he did to Roxas!"

Leon stood up, rubbing his shoulders through his blue denim jacket. "Axel, this is your last chance. You know I can't let you do this."

Shock crossed the red-head's face, before, smirking, he stepped back, leaving the Vampire pressed to the wall with ropes of flame. "He's not going anywhere. Bring it on, Luparr. Let's see what claws do against fire."

Leon stiffened, and then, snarling, he pushed off from the ground, flying through the air, teeth bared in a feral snarl.

)0(

Still crouched on the floor, Roxas cried out as the dark-haired man shifted form halfway through his leap, pushing himself away from the flowing change. His mass seemed to explode, his clothes melting into his skin in a tenth of a second, fur flowing over him like water. There was a loud, wincing crack of bones as they shifted, breaking to re-form in different formations – skin stretched, limbs rippled – and when he landed, Leon was a forest-grey-silver wolf, his shoulder almost four feet off the ground.

The moment his paws touched the ground, he sprang again, crashing into Axel with a heart-stopping snarl as Axel cried out, falling backwards, not prepared for the huge weight and obviously, no matter what'd he said, unwilling to actually hurt the wolf.

The fight went out of him once he was pinned to the ground, and the wolf batted the discs away from his hands, where they clattered into the shards of mirror off to the side. After a moment of looking into his face, the silver wolf shifted again, like a re-wind of his transformation, the fur withdrawing into his skin as his blue outfit replaced it, his body shrinking and dissolving, shaping like clay until his body was more or less humanoid again.

He didn't say anything; just kept the Draco pinned down, staring past his dark hair into the emerald eyes below his, and Roxas noticed with a start that the Luparri's eyes were magik-blue.

"Gods," he breathed, and jumped when the man with the blue blade – Fey, by the look of him – turned to him, keeping his sword raised.

"What is it?"

Roxas was speechless. The blonde's eyes were the green of power.

Who the Hellworlds _were _these people?

Abruptly, Riku knelt down beside him, giving the Fey a _look_ so that he turned away.

"It's all right, Roxas," he said quietly, his eyes fixed on the Draco and Luparri. "But I think it's time to call an end to this."

"Riku?" Roxas asked, startled, but his friend was already getting to his feet with feline grace, side-stepping the Fey to approach a little way towards the two men on the ground.

"That's enough."

)0(

Leon looked up, and blinked when he saw it was the Rose that was calling an end to it. But he climbed off Axel, giving him a hand to pull him to his feet, nodding at Demyx so that the Fey walked over to them, vanishing his blade with a flick of his wrist.

The Luparri bowed. "As you wish it, Rose. We will withdraw from this place, and I offer my apologies for Axel."

Sapphire eyes met his, and Leon fought not to flinch, staring back evenly.

As if it satisfied him, a small grin flickered across the silver-haired boy's mouth, before it vanished as quickly as he'd recognised it, and he nodded. "Accepted."

Bowing low again, Leon turned to the wall behind him, quickly tracing a portal into the backing of what had once been a wall of mirrors. Almost instantly, it filled with shadowy-grey mistiness, the edge of it glowing brightly, the light flickering.

"Demyx," he murmured, stepping aside. Nodding, the Fey stepped past him, waving cheekily back at Roxas, earning a glare from Axel as he vanished without another word, though his laughter could be heard for a few moments before it faded away.

"Axel."

The Draco looked at him pleadingly, and the Luparri sighed. He knew what his friend wanted, but it was impossible.

He shook his head gently, watching as Axel grit his teeth, bowing his head as he clenched his fists, trembling with the effort to walk through the portal.

The Draco took a step towards the archway – and he hesitated.

"Axel," Leon growled warningly, but he was ignored – Axel spun on his heel, opening his hands as he looked pleadingly at Roxas, still crouched on the floor.

"Roxas," he whispered, stepping towards him, his weak smile not reaching his eyes, his voice trembling with the strain of not screaming his heart-pain, "Roxas, come with me."

"What?" The boy stared with wide eyes, obviously confused, and Leon closed his eyes against the raw pain flickering in Axel's. "I – I'm sorry, but…"

_Don't say it, Roxas,_ Leon pleaded inside his mind. _Don't say it. Don't break him like that. _

"…I don't know you," the boy finished, spreading his hands helplessly. Leon winced, eyes darting towards the Draco – he had frozen, that weak, pleading smile etched onto his face. "I'm sorry, General – no, I guess you're not a General, but…" He closed his eyes, before opening them again, trying to express himself. "I don't know!"

It would have been funny – if it were someone else. Someone else's life.

And the heart-wrenching thing…To Roxas, it _was_. It was someone else's life, a life he couldn't remember.

Leon stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on Axel's shoulder. "Come on, Axel," he whispered, knowing the green eyes weren't shimmering with their usual fire. "Let's go."

It was as if his friend couldn't hear him. "But…Don't you know why I fought?" Axel whispered, with heart-breaking confusion, almost child-like innocence. Refusing to really believe it was all forgotten. "How can you have forgotten?" His face clenched with pain. "Forgotten _me_?"

Roxas looked at them helplessly, hands spread, and Leon couldn't bring himself to hate him. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't Axel's, or Leon's – the blame didn't even lie at Xemnas' feet.

Sephiroth.

_We'll get the bastard, Axel,_ he swore silently. _We'll get him – I promise._

The tear-strung silence was gently broken with the Rose's voice. "You really should go."

Jerkily, Axel nodded, letting Leon gently lead him into the portal, the Luparri's hand resting in the hollow of his back, lightly pushing him through the archway before him, watching as the Draco stumbled into the light, as if he'd lost control of himself. A puppet with its strings cut.

Leon looked back towards the Rose, nodding his head. "Farewell," he murmured, waving regally as he stepped through, clicking his fingers as the gate closed, smirking weakly to himself as the Vampire fell to the ground, his bonds vanished, and the lion-hilted blade flew through the air into the Luparri's waiting hand, just in time as Leon dissapeared into the portal.


	7. Hearts Are Broken Everyday

**Hey everybody! Gosh, I'm sorry this took so long, but I'm mostly happy with how it came out! Though I wanted more Riku/Sora action…)pouts( But I figured Riku wouldn't really know how to do something like that…)sighs( He has a lot to learn!!!**

**Enjoy! Thanks to everyone who reviewed:)**

**Oh, and just to let you know – the next chapter is half written, so it shouldn't take as long to get it up!!! **

_Chapter Six – Hearts are Broken Everyday…_

"Cloud? Did you feel something?"

"What?" His brother looked up from putting the bags away, locking the cases with a flick of the catch. "No, why?"

Sora shrugged, flexing his hands. "Nothing. It doesn't matter," he amended, catching his brother's wary expression. Last time the blonde had heard something was 'nothing', his room ended up highlighter pink for a week – as opposed to its uniform black and silver.

It had been _hell_.

But he just muttered under his breath as he shut the cases on the motorbike, tossing Sora's helmet at him – red, white and black – before swinging his leg over the gleaming bike, fastening the straps of his helmet under his chin. Eyeing the custom-painted silver wolf snarling on the black background, Sora climbed up behind his brother, circling his waist tightly. He'd fallen off once before, and he never wanted to do it again.

His hands felt weird – the bones ached, throbbing. Not in a painful way – it actually felt kind of nice – but it was like they'd reacted to something. A pulse of energy, or whatever. He flexed his hands again, reflexively, leaning his cheek against his brother's leather jacket as they shot away through the streets with a roar, the wind ruffling his hair like a friendly hand…

Whispering something he couldn't make out in his ears.

)0(

_We found you for him! We found you for him!_

_Light laughter, swirling, tasting his hair, his skin, plucking at his clothes, whispering. _

_We found you! We found you! _

)0(

Riku stared at the space where the portal had been, his head cocked to one side, thinking, ignoring the furious Vampire General in favour of his inspection of the wall.

He sensed Roxas standing a little way behind him, so the sound of his quiet voice didn't startle him.

"Riku? What are you doing?"

The Rose frowned, turning to the blonde, his arms crossed over his chest. Wasn't it obvious what he was doing? He was staring at the wall, trying to see how to fit the shards of mirror back together so that, when he woke the Humans up, they would see nothing wrong.

It was so glaringly obvious he didn't answer, unwilling to break his precious silence to voice his thoughts, so he shrugged instead, turning back to the shattered wall, frowning.

Ah. Yes…Like that.

He stretched out a hand, slowly, his fingers curled into smooth claws, palm facing the ceiling. _Whisper, whisper._

Like a flurry of butterflies, the crystalline shards of the mirror rose into the air, fluttering and flashing, reflecting the light as they hovered upwards, separating into threads and ropes of shine to press themselves into the cement backing. Piece by piece, like a huge, glittering puzzle, the shards slipped into place, until the mirror was whole again – albeit run through with cracks.

His hand curled into a fist, his eyes narrowing as he concentrated. _Whisper, whisper, whisper._

_Silent laughter._

A slow, liquid flash of light flowed through the mirror, starting in the corner of the room and spreading across the whole wall, curving through the cracks like water, and everywhere it passed the glass melded, until, when it dissolved into the other corner, the mirror was whole, one, unflawed.

Perfect.

Lowering his hand, he noticed, in the corner of his eye, that Roxas had taken the hint, repairing the indents where Leon and Xemnas had been slammed into the other walls, the blonde smoothing the wood over with his palm, like smoothing a slab of wet clay, his eyes slits in concentration.

Xemnas was simply standing in the middle of the room, arms crossed, glaring at the ground. Apparently, he'd done something with his sword, because it wasn't where Axel had thrown it, against the wall.

Riku walked over to him, eyes scanning the room, looking for anything else that would need to be altered, or fixed, before they could leave. "General Xemnas."

The Vampire looked up. "Yes?"

Riku ticked off the items on the list in his mind as he spoke. "Food, shelter, reasonable supplies, and a position – for Roxas and myself – in the Croydon Academy for Gifted Students."

The General stared at him, and Riku frowned, irritated. What was wrong with the man?

Sighing, he explained. "These are the things I wish for you to acquire for us within the next hour or so, Xemnas. I have no idea how I would go about it, and, as a General, I would imagine that you do."

"No, I do not," the Vampire snapped, glaring. "I have no idea of Human culture."

"Then bring Roxas with you," Riku said, confused that the General didn't make the logical leap. Roxas knew about Humans – so get him to _help_ with said Humans.

Xemnas opened his mouth, frowned, and closed it again. He seemed to be thinking, and Riku turned away, not interested in watching the General come to the same conclusion he had already come to, instead walking across to Roxas to tell him – no, ask him, wasn't that the way mortals preferred it? If you _asked_ them to do things, instead of ordering them? He couldn't really remember…

Well, tell him he was going with Xemnas to sort out their lodgings.

_He_ was going to track Sora, find out a little more about him. Xemnas would be able to find him again – Riku wasn't an idiot. He could _hear_ the seeking spell imbedded in the Glamour in his eyes – the magik in it whispered to him, warning him.

Magik looked out for him.

Thinking too deeply to see Roxas' expression of shock and fear as Riku told him how he would be spending his evening, Riku turned and walked out, brushing his hair out of his face as he passed through the doorway.

It wasn't like anyone else did, after all.

)0(

Demyx didn't stay in the room when his feet touched carpet instead of smooth magik, his bubbly grin fading into nothing, his face tightening as he lengthened his pace, hoping to reach the door before Axel and Leon followed him through.

The décor passed him by without notice, the plain green walls sparsely scattered with gilt-framed paintings, a lonely memory-crystal projecting their sharp, clear pictures into the air above them. But the Fey was only interested in the door.

His hand was on the loose door-knob when he heard the strangled sob behind him, and he tensed, feeling the vibrations through the floor as Axel arrived, and the final-sounding snap as Leon closed the portal behind them.

He froze when Axel started crying, knowing without looking that Leon was wrapping an arm around his shoulder, that those emerald eyes would be crying into the fur collar on the Luparri's jacket, that the black-garbed shoulders would be shaking as he tried to hold it in – hold the sorrow deep inside, where no one could see how much he was hurting.

Steeling himself, trying to ignore Leon's reproachful gaze burning into his back, Demyx quietly opened the door and slipped out, his sharp ears catching the Luparri's soft whisper as he rubbed Axel's back, murmuring soothing nothings to try and ease the pain.

Demyx knew all about trying to ease the pain. He knew nothing worked, and that was why he didn't even try.

As he shut the door behind him, he tried to force himself to believe the lie.

)0(

Riku watched from his place on the roof as Cloud and Sora dismounted from the roaring mechanism, a sleek and shiny thing of polished metal. His hands hung between his crouched knees as Sora pulled his helmet off, his brunette hair flopping as he shook his head quickly, getting it back into place.

He said something to his brother, who was locking a chain around the wheel, attaching it to a large, tall pole, topped with dull glass. Cloud laughed, and Riku cocked his head, unable to hear from the distance. Their house was large – four floors, and as he was, up on the roof, he couldn't hear a word they were saying.

Not with the winds blowing, anyway.

He batted away a little breeze coiling around his ankles, never taking his eyes from the small brunette as he made his way towards the door. _Not now. I don't have time to play now._

_Later?_

Sora caught the glittering silver keys Cloud tossed him, turning them in the door. He never sensed there was someone watching him as he slipped into the house, laughing as his brother called him back to help with the bags.

_Maybe._

)0(

"And how old exactly are your sons?" The secretary asked primly, looking at them over her cats-eye glasses.

Xemnas grit his teeth in frustration, and Roxas prayed he could keep his temper. "Roxas is thirty-three, and Riku is the same age."

The platinum-blonde stared at them blankly. "Sir, is this some kind of joke?"

"No, you incompetent _fool_, I am being perfectly serious!" The General snarled, slamming his hands down on the desk. "Gods above, why is this so _difficult?_"

_That's _it! Roxas _snapped_, unable to stand this frustration any longer – he shot out a hand, channelling a simple time-bubble charm through his fingers to wrap like clingfilm around the blonde woman, watching as she froze, her brightly painted mouth gaped open in surprise, eyes bulging like goldfish behind her tacky glasses.

Xemnas whirled on him. "What was that for?" He hissed, eyes blazing – and, suddenly, Roxas found a store of strength.

"Pull back, _General_," he snarled, letting his strength pool through him, dilute his blood until his veins sparkled through his skin, bright lines of light. "You don't know what you're doing, so let me handle it."

Startled, shocked out of his anger, the Vampire did indeed 'pull back', backing down and taking a step backwards, suddenly wary of the blazing Prince standing before him. The knowledge that he couldn't punish Roxas was at the fore of both their minds – one of them revelling in it, confident and strong, the other raging, snarling inside his head at the time-old Laws.

"As you command, _Prince_," Xemnas murmured spitefully, mockingly, and Roxas grit his teeth, fighting the temptation to punish the low-born –

_What? _Shocked, Roxas realised what he'd done, and instantly felt sick as the fear he should have felt attacked him. As if realising its mistake, his magik withdrew inside his centre again, leaving his body as mortal as before, no longer shining like an angel, and he trembled at his own boldness. _What was I thinking? _

He turned away from the Vampire, afraid he would see the usual fear back in his eyes. "Humans are a short-lived race," he told him, inspecting the secretary, wondering how to take away the memory of the last few minutes of their conversation.

Xemnas snorted. "That doesn't explain anything. The shorter lived races survive into their five hundreds, so why does she refuse to accept your age?"

Rolling his eyes where he knew the General couldn't see him, Roxas shaped his voice to be respectful, patient. "Not like that. Almost no Humans manage to get to a century – their bodies mature much faster than ours do. In Human terms, I look about…" He glanced down at himself, calculating. "Maybe fifteen. Ri – the Rose would be about the same."

The Vampire blinked, then snorted, and Roxas knew what he was thinking – it was yet another way in which Humans were inferior to the other Peoples.

But, he thought to himself as the General removed the memories and spell, starting the conversation over, they weren't really. So they didn't live as long. And they didn't have magik. Or take care of their own world. And they killed each other…They didn't follow the three precepts – _Love as thou wilt_; _blood shall not kill blood_; and _the diamond resides in all. _

He frowned, not listening as Xemnas wrapped up, a cold smirk telling him that, this time, it was mission accomplished.

There had to be something good about Humans.

Right?

)0(

"Do you want anything to eat, Sora?"

The younger brother shook his head, almost bouncing with impish glee that the shopping was _over_, that they were _home_ and he was _safe_ from all those busy-body shop-assistants. "No thanks, Cloud. Maybe in a while." He frowned, stilling his hyper-active movements for a moment. "Do you know when mum and dad'll be getting back?"

Cloud, separating their purchases from each other's on the hall table, hesitated before he shook his head. "No, sorry. They didn't tell me."

Sora felt a brief flash of pain, before he masked it with a now-faked grin, knowing Cloud saw through it, saw it for what was really there, but unable to break away from the pretence. "Then I'll just head up to my room. See you later!"

Turning, he quickly darted up the stairs, halfway up the wide staircase when Cloud shouted up at him. "Hey! Sora! Your clothes!"

His little brother just laughed at him as he vanished into the depths of the huge, empty house – and the moment he was away from the blonde, the smile faded, the sparkling eyes turned jaded as they swept over the hollow hallways.

Again. His parents were gone _again_. And, by the very fact that they hadn't told Cloud when they'd be back, the two brothers would be lucky if they saw them this month.

Sighing quietly, he turned on his heel to make for the second staircase, leading up to his room. Having rich parents was great, in that you got all the toys and games and sweets you wanted…But you quickly grew out of wanting things when you could always have them. Half the fun was the _waiting_, the anticipation – he'd realised that when he got a job over the summer, determined to buy something really special for Cloud's birthday.

And his older brother had loved the chocobo, now named Henry, that lived in the aviary out back.

Along with the dozen others. Apparently, he'd started an addiction.

The thought brought a real grin back to his face, and, determined not to let his parents – or their absence, rather – ruin what should be a perfectly good day, he ran up the narrow spiral staircase, already feeling the mounting excitement as he approached _his _floor, fingering the Micky-Mouse styled key on a chain around his neck – the one and only key to the one door leading off the stairs.

)0(

The wind plucked at his hair, a little more serious than it had been only a moment ago. _What are you going to do?_

Riku blinked, watching the roof-tiles beneath his feet as he walked back and forth on the roof of the mansion. _Find a way into the house. I want to see Sora._

Whisper, whisper. Debating, breezes talking to wisps and clouds and the house itself. Air to stone to living blood – the elements could all communicate with each other.

It was only the ignorant mortals that were hemmed in by body and language.

_Stop!_

Riku paused mid-step, slowly lowering his foot back to the…ground? _What?_

_There!_ A small, overly helpful gust leapt down from where it had been winding through his hair – they all loved his hair, loved the silver colour that was so like themselves, the fineness and softness of it, so conductive to their games – to tug at the hems of his trousers. _Here! This way!_

Unresisting, he allowed himself to be led, his eyes easily able to see the silvery, shimmery forms that played and danced around him, that led him across the roof.

_Here?_

They grinned without mouths. _Here._

A pane of glass set into the clay tiles, stretching until it was almost as long – and wide – as Riku was tall, edged in smooth gold wood. Bolted on the inside, but that wasn't going to be a problem.

He stretched out his hand, eyes narrowing as he focussed, whispering inside his mind, where everything and everyone could hear him. _Open._

It was an iron-steel alloy, the lock, a combined sliding bolt and key-lock, the seal sliding all over the frame of the glass. Not his element, but Earth and Air were close, were kin.

And the glass…Ground, melted sand. Earth again.

_Iron, steel, reaped of the earth. Glass, sand, reaped of the earth. Earth to stone to metal to window. Earth to tree to wood to window. Earth to rock to sand to window. _

_Open._

)0(

Sora turned the key in the lock, unable to keep himself from laughing with irrational joy as the door swung inwards away from him, slipping the golden key back inside his shirt as he stepped through the doorway.

He loved his room. It was the only place in the whole house that was really his; just like Cloud's was his alone. The servants were banned from his stairwell, and none of them ever came up here – or his parents. When Sora had been old enough for a room of his own – long overdue in Cloud's opinion – he had wanted somewhere secret. Somewhere…Somewhere that was just for him. Where he didn't have to pretend to be the light-hearted, optimistic boy the blind people around him couldn't help but see.

Where he could just…Be Sora.

He walked across to collapse on his bed, the deep blue blanket giving under his weight as he did a star-fish, spreading his arms and legs as he closed his eyes, giving a quiet sigh of relief. Even with his eyes closed, he could easily summon the image of his room – the walls painted a deep, sapphire blue, waves in sea green covering two. On the one opposite his bed was a just-begun mural. He'd wanted to put everyone important to him in a painting; and so far he just had Cloud, standing proudly beside his motorbike, helmet in hand. It was taken from a photo Sora had, of the day Cloud came home with the bike for the first time, after having saved and worked for it for almost two years, refusing to take a penny from their parents.

His inner smile faded as he remembered why he'd stopped painting.

There was no one else to paint.

Not his parents. Maybe they cared for him – maybe – but it seemed as though they were more concerned with their careers. They had been here for a week this time – the longest incident he'd had both of his parents together in almost…what was it? Three – four years? He wasn't sure. They'd both been there for his…um…his…eleventh birthday?

Three years ago, then.

His friends? He had hesitated over putting some of them in – but in the end he'd put the paintbrush down and walked away from it, carrying the pang in his heart but determined to only put the most important people in the world – to him – in this particular mural.

Apart from that, there was also a carved-legs desk in one corner, sporting a state-of-the-art computer he barely ever touched, and a clutter of treasured knick-nacks he couldn't bear to throw away – snow domes and clay figurines, tattered paintbrushes and cut outs from papers, a stack of old valentine cards. A bookcase in another corner, only barely more used than the computer. A walk-in wardrobe; a treasure chest full of his art supplies; a fireplace in one of the two plain walls, another portrait of Cloud resting on the mantelpiece.

Yeah, he idolised his big brother. So what? It was allowed, wasn't it?

All in all…It was _his room_. And he loved it. It was…_sanctuary_.

Until the skylight set into the sloping roof swung open – and outwards – with a sudden _snap_ as the bolt slid back, seemingly of it's own accord, and the silver-haired boy from earlier swung down, landing in a crouch on the carpet as if he did it every day.

He stood up, brushing his arms off as if breaking and entering were a perfectly normal occurrence, while Sora – who had sat bolt upright with the sudden noise – stared at him in pure shock.

"What – are – you – _doing_?!"

)0(

Riku looked up at Sora, face blank as he cocked his head, confused. Was it not obvious what he was doing?

But he hesitated in simply staying silent this time. Roxas understood – almost always, at least – but did Humans not understand how to listen to the unspoken words?  
Maybe he should speak to Sora?

_Yes,_ the sky outside the window whispered, voice a tendril of thought in his mind. _Humans need speech, words and noise and song to fill up the silence. It is the way they are._

"I'm here to see you," Riku said quietly, never taking his eyes off Sora – unable to. This…This was almost like being near Sephiroth. In a way. The…_nothingness_ inside him felt like it was dissolving, shadows breaking apart in the face of light…

_That's it_, he realised, startled, drinking in the sight of the sapphire-eyed boy before him. _That's what's so special about him._

_He's _Light

"Why would – you know what? Never mind! Just get _out_!" Sora yelled, swinging himself off the bed, face furious, his hand swishing in front of him, a sharp gesture. "Get _out_!"

Riku frowned. "Why?"

"Because – " Sora frowned, the fight suddenly leaving him, abruptly, and Riku watched, fascinated. The boy's moods changed in seconds – it was amazing to watch… "I don't really know. You're a stranger! I don't know you!"

"So?" Riku asked, stepping closer, eyes foccussed on Sora's face. He'd never felt like this before around Sephiroth – like he wanted to throw himself, trembling, at Sora's feet; take the smaller boy in his arms and beg to be touched; nuzzle into his hair and memorise his scent. He didn't know what he wanted – but, by the Winds, he _wanted_. "Why does that matter?"

Sora seemed dazed, hypnotised as Riku kept coming forward, slowly, carefully, the feelings in him growing stronger with each centimetre forward, until he was almost shaking. "I don't know…I can't remember…"

They were almost touching now, and he'd never been this close to anyone but Sephiroth and Roxas, but it was nothing like that – Sora…Was the boy hypnotised? Did all Humans react like this to the presence of magik?

Or was he just feeling for Riku, what the Rose felt for him?

He lifted his hand, raising it to Sora's face, hesitating before letting skin meet skin. He wanted this, so badly…He wanted to touch Sora – but he didn't know why. He didn't even know _how_. And it…

It scared him.

Fear was something he understood. It was something Sephiroth had worked into his make-up, and he knew how to handle fear.

You ignored it.

_But what do I do? _Riku whispered silently, tears gathering. He didn't _know!_ _If I ignore my fear, what do I do instead? _

_This,_ the Winds answered – and, taking control, slipping inside his skin via his breath for just a split second –

His hand cupped Sora's face, golden-electric-fireworks exploding beneath his skin, and before he had a chance to cry out or savour Sora's gasp, his hand had tilted Sora's face to his and placed their mouths together.

)0(

Demyx slammed the door behind him, pressing himself flush against the blue wood, panting hard.

Clenching his teeth and his eyes tightly shut, he walked to the centre of the room, flicking a lock-spell behind him – he didn't want to be disturbed this time.

He'd been heading for the library, for Zexion, before Leon walked around the corner, running a hand through his hair in deep thought – and when his eyes had raised, they'd met the Fey's power-violet ones.

And he'd run – turned tail and flit away from the Peace-Keeper's voice, away from the reminder that, somewhere in this huge house, Axel was crying because the one he loved couldn't remember him.

_But no one remembers me_, he thought bitterly, placing his hand against a panel of misted crystal on the floor, straightening as the strands of magik spun out over the room, criss-crossing everywhere, over the bed, the floor, the walls and bookcase, the sitar lying propped up in one corner. Everywhere the threads of glowing white light crossed, a gem of blue or gold or green pulsed into being, sparkling like jewels.

The sight managed to break through his anger, his threatening tears, just a little, and he started to play the instrument he'd been practising in secret for almost a hundred years.

He wouldn't cry. He _wouldn't_.

* * *

AN - I realised some of this might get confusing, so I'll explain all the characters now. 

Demyx is **Fey**. That's kinda like a faerie, but without wings and stuff. No magik wand, either. They like music alot (suits, no?) and as well as that, Demyx is **water-born**, a term for saying he has control over a paticular element - water. Duh.

Leon is **Luparri**, aka, were-wolf. The only difference being, he has total control over when and where he changes. No getting caught out in the moonlight at inopportune moments.

Axel is **Draco. **This one's harder to explain - think a humanoid dragon. That's their full-form - half-form is when it's basically a human with wings and a tail. The problem is, while working for Sephiroth, Axel's wings and tail were cut off - meaning that he can't return to full-form. He can't change anymore, but he still has a **racial power** over fire (different to being water-born. Racial power means all Dracos have power over fire, not just Axel).

I'm going to keep Roxas a secret for now. :D

Oh yeah - Xemnas is a **Vampire**. The only differences to the normal Vamp myth is he can walk in sunlight, and he can't change into a bat or wolf without magik. Vampires aren't physically strong - they have hollow bones so they can flit (which the Fey do too) - but they are usually very magikally powerful.

I think that covers it...Oh yeah. Cloud and Sora...Hmm...

No, you'll just have to wait and see. :D


	8. But Not All of Them are Mended

Thanks to everyone who reviewed! Whoo, another chapter! Told you I'd be wuick! )grins( Hope you like…Not the original plan for this chapter, but it works out better. Am very very peased with this, so review and tell me if it wasn't justified! )bigger grin(

Enjoy!

_Chapter Seven –…But Not All of Them are Mended_

Abruptly, Demyx tore himself out of the smooth, silken web of music he had created around himself, wrenching his hands out of the air to cradle them to his chest, gasping, panting wide-eyed as he tried to get his breath back.

Music was the breath of the gods, the speech of life. But there was only so much it could do.

The strands of light withdrew into the crystal panel on the floor, and he almost didn't notice, staring at them in confused bewilderment before his mind cleared. No. Music couldn't heal this.

He didn't know what could.

But…He took a deep, shuddering breath, already feeling the customary guilt settle inside his stomach, coiled like a heavy, acidic snake. It wasn't fair to keep using him like this, letting his problems and troubles and tears pour out of him in a wave to crash against his leather-bound books, his violet eyes. Wasn't fair to just use him as a listener.

But he needed it. He closed his eyes as he gave in to himself, again, that weak, whimpering side of himself that just _needed_ someone, turning and tearing the door open before he could re-think it, re-think the fairness of this and just drown in his own mental poison.

)0(

Nothing…_Nothing_ Sephiroth had ever done to him had felt like this. None of the shuddering touches, the nail-whisper caresses, the brush of silver hair on his face. None of it felt like fireworks going off beneath his skin, warm and hot and golden and _oh _he didn't know what this was, didn't know and didn't care, because this just felt so _right_, and he let his other hand drift up to cup Sora's face, fingers trailing in the silky-spiked hair, sharp as dragon spines, and Sora's mouth was hot and velvet and swollen against his…

It just…It felt so _good_, doing nothing more but touching, gently brushing their lips together, moving from side to side almost unnoticeably, but enough to cause delicious friction – touch that burned, touch that _branded_, marked deeper than skin and bone and blood – touched with silver fingertips the place the Winds sprang from, the place where he wasn't mortal and never would be, never could be – touched the secret hollow where his true self resided, waiting and watching and coming out to play with Sora.

He'd never felt like this before.

)0(

Zexion hummed to himself as he re-arranged the shelf in front of him, stroking the leather-bound spine of a soft brown volume absently, thinking. Reaching behind him for the books that were slowly, lazily flying through the air, from a variety of shelves across the library, he slowly flicked his index finger, still watching the shelf at head level as one of the new books opened about halfway through, its crisp white pages rustling as they turned.

Finally turning to the now-opened book floating beside his elbow, Zexion let the volume fall into his hand, his thumb keeping the paper-back open and on the right page as he mused, still humming. His violet eyes scanned the page quickly, before he nodded, snapping the book shut again with a flick of his wrist, sending it back to it's place with a charm as he picked up the next one.

He frowned, reaching for the notebook open on the desk beside him. Without taking his eyes from the book, he pointed the manicured fingernail at the empty page, still reading as lines of elegant handwriting began to appear in the notebook, as if an invisible hand were writing in it.

Hmm.

He jumped as a door slammed, and a scrawling line slashed across the page of the notebook, the hovering volumes around him thumping on the carpeted floor as they fell, the various spells terminating as he lost concentration.

He cursed silently as he bent down to his knees, carefully, tenderly picking up the four books, gently closing them and smoothing the creased pages, cradling them as he got to his feet again.

Catching sight of the marred notes as he set the books down, he growled, angrily tossing his dark blue hair out of his eyes from where it had fallen, closing his eyes and muttering under his breath about the incompetent idiots he was forced to interact with.

Sure enough, a voice spoke from the shadows as he erased the inky slash on the notepad with a flick of his hand, his hair hiding his face as he bent over the book to check the rest of the notes were intact.

"Hey, Zexion."

He sighed. That was his peace over for the day. "Demyx."

Turning, the notebook clasped in his hands, he saw the Fey walk out of the shadows, unfolding from his position leaning up against a bookcase, arms crossed, and Zexion swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat, trying to find his breath.

_Not again. _

"What is it this time, Demyx?" He asked, sighing with faked frustration…even though he _did_ want to get back to his books – he needed to find that encyclopaedia of symbols in Luparri mythology if he _ever_ wanted to get this latest project finished…And the last time he'd seen it, Leon had had the thing in his room, claiming he wanted to know more about his heritage.

Right.

But he always had time for the Fey. Even if he wasn't sure if he wanted Demyx to know that.

"I –" Demyx hesitated, his fingers flexing and uncurling nervously. "It's Axel."

_Again_. Zexion fought back the surge of jealousy, turning away so he could brush away the summoned tears, pretending to reach up for a book on one of the high shelves. He could have gotten it with a spell, but he doubted Demyx would think of that. "What happened?"

A grateful smile flitting across his face, Demyx walked up to him, lifting himself up with his palms to sit on the desk, picking up one of the books Zexion had called over a second ago. Staring at the back as if he were totally enthralled, he started talking, quietly, softly, as if that way it wouldn't be apparent how much he were hurting.

Zexion didn't say anything, knowing he wasn't expected to – but he listened, letting the words like daggers wash over him, welcoming the bittersweet, heart-ache pain because it was the only thing Demyx ever gave him.

The only thing he would ever give him.

)0(

His mind was fuzzy, the lines and edges, once so crystal-clear, blurred, no longer so clearly defined. There was pleasure – hot, warm, golden sparks that flowed through his blood and made it burn, if blood could burn, it was a liquid and they just evaporated, didn't they?

But god, it didn't matter, it _didn't matter_, because this wasn't a normal kiss by any standards.

Kisses didn't feel like this. They didn't make you feel complete, like a piece of you had just slid into place, a fragment of your heart you never realised was missing. Didn't feel like the breath you'd been holding was caressing the inside of your lungs; didn't feel like velvet night air was brushing over your mouth, like stars were hidden behind the other boy's eyelids. The hands cupping your face weren't supposed to be deliciously cool, like ice on fevered skin; your bones weren't meant to feel like they were melting, dissolving into liquid gold.

But it didn't matter…

Only…Only, it _did_. Something about this was very, very wrong…But he couldn't remember what it was. Something about the feel of the lips pressed against his…Though his heart cried out in ecstasy, in pure joy, at the…_perfection_, his mind was trying to scramble the remnants of his sanity together. The mouth wasn't full enough for his mind to accept, weren't soft or pouty enough to be right. The hands on his face were too rough, and though it sent thrills through his skin his brain argued the point. The tips of the fingers in his hair weren't soft as they should be; weren't slim and feminine.

_Feminine._

Sora's eyes shot open, startled, pulling away from the silver-haired boy – Riku, his name was Riku, he remembered now – throwing himself back towards the bed even as his heart screamed in pain, sudden, agonising, _physical _pain that felt like being stabbed with a knife of his own forging.

Screwing his face up in pain, he doubled over, crossing his hands over his chest, trying to apply pressure instinctively, eyes watering from the hurt that burned in a very different way to his swollen mouth.

)0(

"He loves Roxas," Demyx whispered, almost silently, the words burning his lips as he spoke them, poison in his mouth. "Even after all this time, he loves him. Why –" His voice broke, and even as he hated his weakness the Fey couldn't deny it, couldn't block up the tide of tears that were spilling over.

"Why does he still love him?"

Suddenly unable to bear the thought of Zexion's eyes on him, Demyx let his head fall into his hands, his palms covering his face, forcing himself not to start crying.

_I'm strong, _he told himself fiercely. _I'm strong. I can deal with this. I _can_…_

An image of Axel crying into Leon's shoulder offered itself to him, and he sobbed, unable to stop himself. It wasn't _fair_ – it wasn't _fair_ that Axel was destroying himself against the wall between him and Roxas' memories. It wasn't fair that, after everything, after all the hurt the boy had put him through, the Draco still loved him.

It wasn't fair that he'd made the Fey fall in love with him.

At the memory, Demyx grit his teeth, leaning further over his knees, trying to close his mental eyes. _We both knew it was a once-off thing. I was just trying to help…_

"Demyx."

Startled, he looked up, angrily brushing away the liquid sapphires falling down his cheeks – Fey tears, glowing with an inner light, shining in the darkened library.

Zexion was staring at him, eyes unreadable, shimmering with a myriad of colours – violet and silver, midnight-blue and a tiny thread of black. Suddenly feeling venerable, Demyx could only watch as the Reader took a step forward, their eyes locked.

"You're so much better than this, Demyx," the blue-haired Syrnan whispered, softly, reaching hesitantly forward with a gloved hand, tracing the sharp oval of the Fey's face with a soft, light fingertip. "You're strong, you're powerful, and you're an amazing person. You don't deserve to have your heart broken."

Demyx sighed with something unnamed as Zexion continued his feather-light touches, tracing his brow, his eye sockets, the sculpted cheekbones, so softly the Fey could barely feel it.

Soft. Gentle. Tender.

It felt so good, to have someone know. To have someone who cared. Because there was no point in trying to hide it from Zexion, was there? Not with his Gift, his unique talent.

Why lie to someone who can Read your soul?

He let his head fall, his chin tucked in against his throat, relaxing into the touch, his eyes fluttering closed. He needed this. Nothing burning, nothing passionate. Nothing to remind him of Axel, of his heart-pain.

Just…Just someone who cared. Who knew how to make it stop hurting.

Somewhere in his misted mind, he felt Zexion hesitate for a moment, and he idly wondered why.

Somewhere in the silver mist, in the knowledge of knowing he was wanted, he was cared for, he felt soft leather-bound fingers move down his face, brushing lightly across his lips before continuing their descent.

Somewhere very far away, he felt irresistible pressure push up against his chin, tilting his face upwards, and sleepy, glazed eyes opened.

"You're a wonderful person, Demyx," he heard his friend whisper, as if from a hundred thousand miles away. "You're funny as well, you know. You can lighten up anyone. You've made _me_ laugh for the first time in centuries – did you know that?"

Slowly, he nodded, up-and-down – and then, a flicker of realisation making its way through the fog, he changed mid-gesture to shake his head instead, just as slowly. Dreamily.

A breathy, fear-tinted laugh, somewhere close to him. "See? That's what I mean." For a moment, the grip left his chin, trailing almost teasingly down his throat to hook his fingertip around a gold chain, tugging it out from under the Fey's shirt, cupping the sparkling pendant in his palm for a second before letting it fall again.

Gloved fingers traced it, the sapphire sitar charm inset into a medallion of lapis lazuli, the palm-fitting circle edged with a thin band of silver.

"If for nothing else, this makes you unique, Demyx," the whisper breathed into his ear, the hot breath making him shiver, his eyes glazed with violet shadows, unable to refuse the Reader's mists, unable to fight against the Gift taking his pain away. "If you don't believe anything I say, just look at this."

Demyx gasped softly as Zexion stroked the pendant again, his eyes fluttering closed once more, surprised and dreamily pleased at the intimacy. He could feel the Reader's touch as if it were on his own skin…

He was so deep in the comforting, numbing mists that he didn't notice when the fingers on his pendant turned into hands on his skin.

He was so deep into the misty depths of his own mind that he didn't feel shocked or scared when warm tendrils of magik wound about him in a soft cocoon, trailing over his skin, heightening his senses in preparation.

He was in so deep, it didn't feel wrong when a strong, gloved hand tilted his chin upwards on the tip of two fingers, when violet eyes met his own dreamy ones, glazed and a little out of it.

But the hot pressure of a soft, velvet mouth against his rode on the wave of his heightened senses, tearing through the fog.

)0(

Riku stepped forward instinctively, trying to follow the vanishing warmth, the living heat that his own form refused to create – but his eyes flickered open, glazed and misty, at Sora's pained cry.

Instantly, his mind cleared, and, unthinking, he forgo Human expectations and flit to Sora's side, the other boy almost kneeling on the ground beside the bed, panting hard, reaching a hand towards his shoulder.

"No!" Sora cried, trying to stagger upwards, trying to get away from him. "Don't touch me – !"

He froze as Riku, already moving, rested his hand on Sora's shoulder, feeling the smooth cloth beneath his hand, feeling the absence of pain through the heat of his skin, through the concerned whispers of the frantic breezes whirling around this Human boy.

_Is he all right? Is he well? What's wrong with the Human-let? What's wrong?_

_He is well,_ reported his calming breaths, almost still as they circled the pair of humanoids. _The pain is gone with the Rose's touch._

Riku glanced to the side, startled at the revelation – and even more shocked when he _realised_ he was surprised.

He could feel. Not just physical sensation – longing for a touch, the melting sparkles in his blood when they _did_ touch – but he was shocked.

And, he realised, looking back to Sora, concerned.

"Are you well?" He whispered, tightening his grip as Sora nodded, like a puppet with his strings abruptly cut; his eyes confused as he looked up at the Rose.

"Yeah…What did you do?" He asked, clambering to his feet, shooting Riku a look clearly ordering the Rose to back off – but when he did, he gasped, collapsing to the floor with a weak, whimpering cry that had the silver-haired humanoid crouched at his side in a moment.

"Sora!" He whispered, frantic, his fingers curling into each shoulder. "Sor – "

But Sora blinked sapphire eyes up at him, panting hard as he looked up at Riku with confusion and loathing. "What are you doing? Why does it only hurt when you move away?"

Riku frowned, letting go of Sora. "I'm not doing anything." He said calmly, façade for concern, façade for a mind working frantically to figure out what was happening. He didn't want to hurt Sora; but when he tried to touch Sora's face again, the smaller boy snarled at him, forcing himself up, slapping at Riku's offered hand.

"Don't!" He hissed, stumbling back, his beautiful face marred with fury and hatred. "_Don't!_ I don't _care_ what you're doing, or how much it – it hurts," his voice stumbling a little, trembling, and Riku felt a pang, a pained tearing in his…heart? At the thought of Sora being in pain – "get _out!_"

"What?" Riku asked, sudden, abrupt hurt pouring through him – and he'd never felt this before, wasn't even really sure what it was, but Winds it _hurt_…he wanted to _cry_, and he didn't understand, couldn't work it out. What happened to the time when everything was logical, when everything worked out, balanced, neat and formal and equal?

"I want you _gone_," Sora hissed, almost spitting, hugging himself as he trembled, unable to look at Riku. He looked like a war was taking place inside him, and Riku didn't _understand!_ "Get _out!_"

Riku looked at him, confused. Hurt. He didn't want to go; wanted to stay here with Sora, wanted to hold the younger boy and stroke his hair, kiss him and hug him and fall asleep beside him.

Wanted…Wanted to love him. Wanted to understand the sweet pain burning in his chest, the coil of gold around his throat, the soft, ethereal starlight that seemed to touch Sora, that seemed to blaze from him. Wanted to understand and know and love the sapphire eyed boy.

And he was being told to leave.

"But…But you'll hurt," Riku said, confused, grasping at falling sparks that burned his fingers. "I can't go if it hurts you."

Sora's eyes blazed. "_Then make it stop hurting!_"

Riku stared at him helplessly, spreading his hands in a gesture of defeat. "I don't know how!"

_Winds?_ He called desperately, aware of Sora's hatred, jewel-bright acid in his eyes and his gaze, coiling along his skin, _what do I do?_

For a moment, there was no answer, and he was starting to panic – another new experience, sharp as thousands of shards of glass pouring through him, something he wanted to _end_, to _go away _– when his friends, his guardians and guides, whispered to him.

_A promise,_ they murmured, whirling around his hair, his wrists, tugging him with invisible strength towards Sora, ignoring the widening eyes of both boys, Sora's hasty stumble backwards. _A promise to return, that you do not leave forever. _They were silent a moment, giving him one final push so that, when his arms came up to save himself, they wound about Sora's waist.

And maybe they guided Sora's hands as well, that came up around his neck, fingertips light as breath on the back of his throat; maybe they inspired the Rose to turn his head slightly to the side, so the angle was better, closer, hotter; so that Riku's whispered promise to come back could go unheard between the pair of mouths – even as Sora inhaled and gasped and swallowed the shimmering, diamond-oath.

_Because you will return, will you not?_

_Yes,_ Riku whispered back, savouring Sora's sudden lack of resistance, his eagerness, knowing what would come afterwards and not knowing why, not caring for a moment. _I will never let this go._

And when they both had to breathe, when Sora's face contorted with hate and the hands around his neck flew away to push him back, when there was no pain, no strangled cry…When Sora started shouting, screaming for someone called Cloud, trying not to cry…When Riku, in desperation, leaned forward again and placed one hand on Sora's temple, reaching in and sliding the memories to the back of the boy's mind, to let him almost-forget…

All the while, even as he swung himself out of the window, sliding the glass shut behind him, the bolt quietly slipping back into place. Even as Sora, dazed and confused, sat down on his bed just as the blond from earlier came storming into the room, hurried and frantic. Even as Riku watched, unnoticed from behind the glass shield, with hurt and a pain as if the fire in his chest were breaking as the older blond comforted his younger brother.

Even then.

He swore to himself, as he let the Winds carry him to where Roxas' mind pulsed like a star, that he would never, never let this go.

)0(

He felt Demyx gasp into his mouth, and encouraged, feeling the aching, twisting fear in his stomach receding, he reached up to slide a hand into the Fey's dark-gold hair, the other moving up to cup his face. As if in reward, Demyx threw his arms around his neck, pressing up into the kiss, darting a tentative tongue to caress the Syrnan's lips.

Moaning softly, Zexion tightened his fingers in the gold hair, coaxing Demyx's mouth open, revelling in the hot, sweet taste he found there: like cinnamon and honey, the wild spiciness of fireworks on a cold night, the rushing roar of a river as it tumbled over a cliff – all of it was mixed up inside his mind into an intoxicating blend that smashed him.

He ached, all over, his skin and blood throbbing, heating, and he took a step forward again, trying to get closer, needing more of this. His other hand came up to join it's partner, nails whispering against the Fey's skin, his scalp, tearing moaning gasps from Demyx's throat, and Zexion smirked against his mouth as he broke away from the Fey's swollen mouth, leaning down to press feather-light kisses to his jaw, trailing down like a ribbon of breath down his throat, tracing runes and sigils into the pale skin, nipping and scraping his teeth against his collar bone as he gained confidence, only encouraged by Demyx's strangled cries and gasps, his head thrown back and his hands twisting in Zexion's slate-blue hair, tugging desperately.

And then it all came crumbling down around him.

)0(

"Ah – _Axel_!" Demyx cried, arching into the skilled fingers and parchment-smoothed hands, the hot mouth on his skin, crying out and needing more, wanting more –

And then it was gone.

As abruptly as the darkness is gone in the face of a flame, he was alone in the library, panting and flushed and needing, glazed eyes only seeing the darkned shelves of books…

And the wisps of shadow dissolving into the air around him, accompanied by, if you listened hard enough, a weak, choked sob that vanished into the darkness with the smoke-like shadows.

* * *

Hey everyone! Hope you liked that...Not sure I pulled off Sora, looking back on it, but oh well. 

Another explanation of the characters - Zexion is **Syrnan**, one of the shadow-People (I thought it was appropriate). So, apart from the summoning books thing (which everyone with magik could do,) he can shadow-shift (dissolve into shadow and re-form somewhere else,) which is a **racial-power** (something only Syrnans can do). Oh, and I'm sorry if his eyes aren't actually violet - couldn't find out and needed them to be one of the power-colours!

He has the Gift - unique magikal power that only he has - of Reading. Which is the reading of emotions via colours etc, but that hasn't really been mentioned yet. And if you're wondering about Demyx's pendant...All will become clear! ;)


	9. A Far Off Memory

**Hiya peoples! Sorry this took a little longer than expected – I must have edited this AT LEAST four times…/mutters/ Anyways, here yah go! Please note there is a vaguely explicit scene contained herein, and that this is kinda a two-part chapter…With the next one completing the chapter-title/quote. (And yes, I know it's in the wrong order!)**

**Enjoy, and thanks for all the reviews!!! **

* * *

Chapter Eight – A Far Off Memory That's Like a Scattered Dream...

Roxas was standing in the doorway of his brand-new room when Riku arrived, the Rose translucent as a ghost as he walked in through the wall, solidifying with a shower of silver sparks as he collapsed onto one of the beds, burying his face in the stark pillow soundlessly.

"Riku?" Roxas asked quickly, shocked. This was the boy who never showed – who _didn't have_ emotions; and he was shutting out the world with a pillow?

What had happened?

A muffled sound came from the Rose, but the silver-haired boy didn't look up, his hands fisted in the sheets with undeniable frustration.

How was it possible?

Quickly crossing over to sit on the bed, he reached out to shake Riku's shoulder. "Riku! What's going on?"

The other boy turned his head, flicking his silver hair to splay out on the pillow like starlight. Fake-bright blue eyes stared up at the blond, and a confused line appeared like a shadow on Riku's brow.

"I…" He hesitated, looking away from Roxas as if to gather his thoughts, fists clenching and relaxing beside him unconsciously, the only clue Roxas had to his friend's thoughts.

"Sora."

Riku buried his face in the pillow again, but Roxas was frozen; beyond shock, beyond confusion.

The way Riku had said the name… It had been a soft breath; a sigh; almost a whisper – caressing and loving and hopelessly confused, delicate and gentle and heart-achingly sweet. The name of someone that completed you, that was perfect in your eyes, in your heart; someone… someone that could save your soul.

"I have no idea what's wrong with me," Roxas heard Riku murmur, voice dyed with tears, with reined-back emotion – emotion that _shouldn't exist_, that _shouldn't be possible_ – "I… Roxas, I can _feel_ around him. Even now…I still can."

Sapphire met sapphire, one pair of gems brimming over with tears and one glassy with shock. "It _hurts_, Roxas. Why does it… does it…?" He choked back a sob, clenching his eyes shut as he shuddered in pain, holding his knees tight to his chest as he curled around his heart, around the burning pain housed there. "Why do I want to be able to feel this?"

_Emerald eyes; tear-drop tattoos. Hair like fire and a taste like spiced honey; hands that burned and a mouth he couldn't tear away from._

"Because it's worth it," Roxas said softly, lying down beside his friend, letting his arms snake around the Rose in the embrace both so desperately needed. He felt Riku move into the touch, the pale hands curl around Roxas' own as his face, wet with trails of salt, buried itself into Roxas' sleeve.

"It hurts, sometimes," he whispered, feeling Riku start to relax, start to unwind. Whatever Sora had done, it must be wearing off – fewer and fewer tears poured from Riku's falsely-coloured eyes; his body trembled less and less. "But it's worth it."

They lay like that for a while, neither of them saying anything, until Riku sighed, letting go of his friend's hand to wipe away the leftover moisture on his face, abruptly swinging his legs up and over the bed to stand.

Without a word or a backward glance, he strode to the door and disappeared – leaving Roxas alone and silent in the empty room, eyes misted in remembrance.

)0(

Leon let his head fall into his hands as he collapsed into the red plush armchair, lighting the fire in the grate with a pair of narrowed eyes behind his spread fingers.

The flames leapt up into the shadows of the chimney as he let himself relax into the seat, his eyes closing as he sighed, hands falling to the arms, clutching at the red cloth reflexively.

Roxas.

Demyx.

Axel.

Zexion.

Abruptly abandoning his plan of 'sit down in front of the fire and _relax_', Leon sat up again, running a hand through his hair as he pulled himself up, knowing he wasn't going to get any rest, not with the thoughts whirling around inside his mind, like a ball of wool on steroids.

When had his pack become so complicated? When – _how?_ He was supposed to look after them, take care of them – he'd stepped up when Ansem had ignored his responsibilities and left them alone, when the Seeker of the Stars had cast them aside when he realised they couldn't – wouldn't – help him win the Web.

And he'd done a _bloody good job_, Leon thought with a snarl. When Ansem had been too busy ruling his Empire – the shattered remains of the once-glorious White Empire that had stretched across a hundred worlds – it had been _Leon_ that had found Ansem's son crying in a corner; _Leon_ that had allowed the fourteen-year-old Prince to follow him around like a puppy; _Leon_ that had introduced the youngling Prince and the scarred Draco warrior.

_Leon_ that had been there, a year later, when the two finally got together; _Leon_ that had pinned Axel to a wall and warned him to never, _ever_ hurt the younger boy. _"Break his heart, and I'll break your neck, Star or not," he'd snarled into the Draco's face._

_Axel met his gaze squarely, a flicker of anger in the emerald depths. "I'd never hurt him," he'd whispered quietly. "I'd beg you to murder me before I ever made him cry."_

Growling, the Lupar strode across the room to the bookshelf, idly reminding himself that he needed to return the encyclopaedia of symbols to Zexion as he picked up a smooth crystal sphere, tossing it from hand to hand as he paced the room.

It was _Leon_ that slaughtered the Syrnan soldiers to rescue the outcast scholar Zexion, cast out of the clans for his strange ability to Read souls. It was _Leon_ that had given him a place to stay, that had let him carve a place for himself among the books and scrolls, his natural habitat; _Leon_ that had waited patiently, for months, until the day the blue-haired Syrnan finally crept out of the library, hesitant and scared but determined to be brave. It was _Leon_ that had realised a brutalised being like the Syrnan wasn't going to be at ease with a Lupar until he was healed – so it was _Leon_ that had brought the Healer to the Luparri palace.

_Demyx looked around him, his head swinging from side to side as if to drink in all the sights as Leon led him through the halls, the white marble walls of the Luparri palace stark and bright. The servants gave the pair curious, disapproving looks; but Leon ignored them, eyes focused on the path to the library. _

"_Leon, for the hundredth time – where are you taking me?" Demyx demanded again, turning back to the Lupar. "I'm meant to be in Nymphaiel, performing for the Mer. They need an accompaniment to their singing, and – "_

_Leon drew to a halt outside an agate-inlaid door, turning the intricate doorknob as Demyx continued talking, not even noticing the sudden stop. _

_But he noticed when Leon, after thoughtfully opening the door, grabbed his left arm and _threw_ him into the library, slamming the heavy slab of marble shut behind him, locking it, and walked back down the hall, a small smirk flickering across his face._

_Two hours later, he'd come back to find Demyx, refusing to believe that_ anyone _could resist him, having charmed Zexion down from the top level of the three-story high library, regaling him with stories about his time studying music and healing with the Mer. _

_Another job well done._

Leon snarled again; turned on his heel with all the speed of a flitting Vampire. His arm whipped around, smashing the crystal against the wall, where it shattered into a thousand shards of starlight, flame-tinted in the light.

Everything had been _perfect!_ Roxas, his almost-brother, had been happy – and he'd _deserved _it; the poor kid had needed a break desperately, with his mother and sister dead in a battle with Sephiroth's Sparks.

Axel had been overjoyed for the first time in a century, slowly overcoming his tortured past, the maiming of his now-absent wings and tail, finding a new life in 'his' blond.

Zexion was almost social, happy to be part of the group, happy to have somewhere where his powers meant he was normal, not an outcast.

And Demyx? The Fey had someone happily content to listen to him talk 24/7. What could be more perfect for the chatterbox?

Abruptly, Leon's knees gave out under him, letting him slump to the floor, his face falling into his hands as he struggled to breathe, to keep control.

And Leon had had his Pack. The cast-aside Prince of the Luparri, rejected for his strange, terrifying Gift – the shunned Prince; never spoken to, never touched, pointedly never mentioned in conversation. His name was even stricken from the records of the Royal Blood.

He had had a Pack – a family of Brothers, to protect and lead and be protected _by_. He hadn't been alone anymore.

Was it any wonder, then, that they had all bonded together so closely? Maybe he should have expected it; should have seen this tangled mess eventually coming forth from what had once been so perfect. None of them had anyone else, no family or kin or clan to turn to outside their small group, outside Leon's Pack. They had no _choice_ but to find solace with each other, to come so close together that the edges between them all blurred.

Axel and Roxas. Unexpected, but once done it was _done_, cemented, and Leon had never seen two people more devoted to each other. It was passionate, as hot and burning as Axel's reign over Fire; but it was _simple_. Beautifully simple; elegantly simple. They hadn't needed anyone else.

But after that, things became murkier, darker, more shadowed; the clear, gracefully simple defined lines and borders between them all blurring. Maybe it should have been expected, as well, that the shy Zexion would come to admire his only real friend, the Fey that literally lit up his life among the dark halls of books in the various manors and castles they frequented.

Leon had approved. Relationships brought the Pack together; made it stronger, more solid. The Syrnan and Fey complimented each other perfectly.

But Demyx was oblivious; completely unknowing. He didn't have a clue why Zexion was always so happy to listen, always there when he needed to talk. He didn't have a clue why Zexion was always there when he wanted someone to hear his latest piece of music; or when he just wanted to sit and do nothing, watching the other person.

Maybe, Leon thought, looking up as he let his hands fall, staring with dark eyes into the flames, maybe he should have told Demyx about the Syrnan's growing devotion. But it had all gotten so complicated after Roxas left; that night when they all thought Axel wasn't going to make it, that he couldn't take it anymore. When Leon had to pin him down to stop the Warrior from taking a sword, a dagger, a spear, and just _ending_ it.

And Demyx had stepped up. Just as a friend, not knowing what else to do, he'd offered himself to Axel. Offered to take the pain away, for as long as he could.

And Axel had taken the offer, desperately; needing an outlet for the storm inside him.

Leon didn't like it. Even then, he'd sensed this would complicate his Pack, mess up the still-delicate, tender balance between his Brothers. But there was nothing else they could think to do.

And the Healer had fallen in love with the Warrior.

)0(

It hurt.

Axel clenched his eyes shut, burying his face into the pillow, his hands fisting in the cover. It hurt so _gods-damn much_, and he just wanted it to _end._

He choked back a sob, unable to thrust away the memory plaguing him: Roxas, hands helplessly spread before him, eyes empty of remembrance, of recognition. Unknowing. His blond lover, his Other for fifteen years, no more than a stranger on the street. As if Axel had dreamed it all, the laughter and the voices, the surprises and excitement and the feeling of flying without his wings.

As if none of it were real. As if he'd been dreaming, asleep for fifteen years like a cat-napping Sleeping Beauty, and woken up to find the real world hadn't changed with him.

Gods, it _hurt_! Why couldn't Roxas remember? Surely Sephiroth's magik wasn't that strong, wasn't able to block out all of Roxas' memories? No magik could be that strong; nothing, he knew, could _ever_ make _him_ forget. If he lived to a hundred thousand years old, he could never forget Roxas, even if the blond Prince never remembered him. He just _couldn't_.

"_Axel? Ansem's looking for your report – I'm assuming you have it with you?"_

_The Draco warrior, wings proudly flared – back when he still had them, unaware of how precious they were, how lucky he was – raised an eyebrow, reaching into his jacket pocket to pull out a sheaf of papers._

"_Of course I do, Lupar__bastard," he teased, extending the report to the were-wolf, who took it silently. "But if that's it, then I kinda need to get going – Sephiroth's been watching me a little too close for comfort, you know?" He shrugged, hands spread helplessly. "I can get away with Luparri, most of the time – but Arcadia's too far. Sorry." _

_Leon nodded solemnly. "Of course, Axel. When do you think you can you get away again?"_

_He shrugged again, letting his arms hang to hook his thumbs in his belt loops. "Probably not for a few weeks – I'll send word when I know."_

"_All right," Leon replied, grasping his friend's hand tightly for a moment, before releasing it. "I guess I'll see you – " _

"_Leon? Aren't you going to introduce us?"_

_Axel's attention moved to a smaller figure leaning against the doorframe, earth-fire eyes roaming appreciatively over the blond, whose pointed ears and golden hair instantly marked him as one of this world's People, and whose sea-fire eyes were staring at the Draco with an unreadable expression. "Who's this?"_

"_Roxas – Axel." Leon waved his hand from the blond to the warrior, and back again. "Axel, meet the Prince Roxas – Ansem's son, and my sort-of-adopted brother."_

_Axel raised his eyebrow, but didn't comment on it, unable to tear his eyes away from the deliciously ravageable blond. "Roxas, huh? And how old are you, Prince, that you're hanging out with a Lupar warrior on his highly-classified missions?"_

_Roxas raised his eyebrows in a perfect imitation of Axel's own expression. "Fourteen, _sir_. Why the interest?"_

_The Draco grinned at Leon, before returning to the Arkadian. "Wouldn't you like to know? But, alas," he mock-sighed, raising a hand to his brow in a dramatic swoon, "you're far too young to ever find out."_

_The blond's eyebrows rose even higher on the sculpted face, azure eyes shining. "You wish, Draco," he murmured softly, his gaze flickering up and down the warrior. Judging from the appreciative tone, Axel guessed the little Prince didn't realise how sharp Draco – not to mention Luparri – ears were._

"_On the contrary," Axel answered, watching amused as Roxas' horrified eyes flickered up to his again, "I very much wish the opposite." _

_He grinned, baring eye-catching star-splinter fangs as Roxas, flustered, quickly bid farewell to Leon, who only watched, just as amused as Axel as the Arkadian made his excuses and disappeared. _

Axel wailed, his knuckles white as he clutched at the pillowcase, instinctively muffling his cry, as if by burying his face into the cloth he could choke the pain burning like an unholy fire in his chest. It ran through his veins like melted lead, like liquid glass, and he couldn't stand the hurt.

It was _worse_, a hundred thousand times worse, than when his wings had been ripped from his back, his tail severed from the base of his spine to leave a thick, knotted white scar. And though the sudden, heavy realisation occasionally still hit him – that he couldn't fly, and never would again – would never feel the wind on his face, breathe air untainted by lungs and smoke again – he still didn't regret it.

Not for an instant.

_He wasn't thinking about Roxas when he stumbled through the portal, the last shreds of his power woven together to shape a gateway to freedom. Xemnas' laughter echoing through the stone chamber, Sephiroth's blade casually thrown to one side, stained with his blood. _

_He wasn't thinking about the Prince when the tattered ribbons of magik snapped as he stepped through, slamming the portal shut behind him as he almost fell to the floor, eyes glazed with pain. _

_He couldn't think about _anything_ through the blazing agony that refused to numb, that refused to fade to a bearable level. The uncomfortable sensation of his shirt and trousers sticking to his skin, the blood like a river as it flowed down his back, gushing down his legs to pool on the carpet. He didn't know how long he could last like this._

_But if he could have been thinking… If something other than this had been able to permeate his mind… It wouldn't have been the Prince he'd met weeks ago, the blond teen he hadn't seen since. Maybe dazedly-curious thoughts of where he was, where his magik had taken him when he'd only had the strength to let it flow through him, unable to shape it to his control._

_Leaning against a wall, panting and gritting his teeth as sweat – and salt – dripped into the two long, almost-straight lines etched into his back, Axel choked back a sob as the situation hit him like a punch._

_He didn't know where he was._

_He didn't have the strength to call for help._

_He could barely stand._

_He was going to die here._

_The statement was like a brick wall in his path; and without his magik, his powers, his strength, he had no way to blast such an obstacle, to get past it…_

_Clawing at the wall as his knees finally gave out, limbs of blood-streaked lead, he fell to the ground, refusing to cry even as the lush carpet rose up to meet him, slammed into his shoulder. _

_Sephiroth couldn't make him cry. He could tear his wings from his back; he could rip and maim and make sure Axel would never fly again. He could _kill_ him._

_But no one had ever made him cry. And he wasn't going to start now._

"_A – Axel? Axel!" _

_His eyes were so heavy, weighted with anchors, dragging them down… And he welcomed it, welcomed the respite from the fire and the pain, the salt-dripped wells of blood… _

_It was such a strange sensation, feeling yourself grow weaker…_

"_Axel!" The voice was deeper this time, stronger, but just as desperate, and leather-palmed gloves gripped his face. "Axel, listen to me! You've got to stay awake, Axel, okay?"_

_The Draco blinked his eyes, unable quite to make out who was speaking to him… Everything was blurred, hazy as if through misted glass, but he thought it was Leon kneeling over him, voice panicked. "Axel, look at me. Look at me!"_

_Groaning, Axel tried to turn his head away. Looking through the mist hurt his eyes…_

_Firmly – desperately? – the hands turned his face back towards Leon, and Axel tried to glare – why couldn't Leon just let him _die_? – _

_But his green-fire eyes locked with the dark, steel blue, and… And what? It was like a magnet, an irresistible force that physically _refused_ to let him look away, drawing him in to a tunnel of midnight-blue, shot through with electric azure… and it felt as if it might not be one-way, as if someone were coming down the passage from the other direction… Darting expertly past him and slipping through into _his _eyes, into _his _mind, and he was completely helpless to stop them…_

_Not that he wanted to – not that he even cared. He could feel the strength trickling out of him, coiling through his skin to puddle on the floor. Whatever Leon was doing, it didn't matter – not now, not ever, because a few more moments and he would be bled out… If only Demyx has been the one to find him…_

_The sensation of someone inside his mind grew stronger as his body weakened, as his defences lowered and became nought. Leon didn't have to fight anymore to get inside his head; and he was using that to full advantage – Axel could feel him hurriedly flicking switches, adjusting, crossing wires, creating circuits as the Luparri moved to straddle his hips, thumbs rubbing small circles on his cheekbones._

_What… What was he doing…?_

_Abruptly, Leon leaned in closer, mouth forming low, hurried whispers that Axel couldn't catch, a building ringing in his ears drowning out even his own harsh breathing… And… Were his eyes always that shade of blue…? He could have sworn they were darker…_

_In a single moment, Leon's mouth slid over his, hot and soft, just as his arms moved to grip Axel's shoulders, tugging him into a sitting position – and the pain that should have flared up, should have ripped him apart and made him scream – didn't appear._

_Later, he could understand why it had happened. When the sudden realisation that he was Healed – a piece of magik not even Demyx could have preformed, as Axel leaned over the edge of death – healed, free, his body whole and compete as any could ever make it without his wings – _

_He understood it all, later. _

_Understood that his mind shied away from the should-be-impossible piece of magik, the forced-upon realisation that he was alive when he had been resigned to death. It was too much for a mortal – to make the pact with one's soul, and to break it, however unintentionally – to accept the ultimate truth, to face squarely the darkness no eyes could pierce, and then be torn back from the brink._

_So he'd thrown himself into Leon's arms, grasping hungrily, shutting out everything else as he tugged harshly at the dark brown hair, letting his fangs tear at the Lupar's mouth until he was gasped entrance. Leaning up on his knees, hands still entwined in the Lupar's locks as he switched their positions, pinning Leon to the ground as he Breathed into the other's mouth – filling it with hot flame, white-sparked fire that licked and tasted down his throat, a caressing pain that bordered on ecstasy; and even with his eyes closed Axel could feel Leon's shudders and gasps and weak little moans, whimpers that didn't sound like Leon _at all_, but he couldn't _think_…_

_He detached one hand from the silky hair – was it always that pale? – down the side of his throat, nails whispering across the vein as Axel ravaged the Lupar's mouth; hard, violent, brutal in his desperation not to face reality. The skin under his hand seemed darker than usual, a little too gold, but he ignored it, sparks igniting on his fingertips as he scorched hot wires down the other's chest, burning through the clothes; and Leon was shaking, trembling and panting and his hands were fisted in Axel's blood-soaked hair, light rivulets running down over his fingers to wreathe his wrists as the Draco started to strip him right there in the hallway, right there in Axel's spilt blood…_

"_A – Axel," he panted, crying out as Axel's mouth descended to the Lupar's chest, nipping with sharp fangs and soothing the bites with his tongue, "Just – just s-stop, Axel!"_

_When the Draco looked up, startled out of his reverie by the sudden, unexpected voice – one that was definitely NOT Leon's – he leapt back, yelling as he smashed into the wall behind him, jade-bright eyes wide with shock._

"_R – _Roxas?!_" _

_The Arkadian Prince looked up at him, flushed and panting, eyes glazed as he obviously struggled to stay rational, and Axel couldn't help his eyes tracing his handiwork down the small teenager's form, the ragged singe-tears baring teasing strips of red-nipped skin. _

_He sucked in a sharp breath as Roxas' eyes met his, sapphire blue slamming into his own burning jade ones with enough force to punch the air from his lungs – hard, lusting, wanting, needing, demanding eyes that made him shiver pressed up against the wall, that slid shields of glazed want across his vision until he stepped forward, hand reaching for the Prince lying sprawled on the floor…_

_Abruptly, the feeling vanished as Roxas jerked his head to the side, panting furiously, squeezing his eyes shut as he clasped his head in his hands, forcing himself to look away from the Draco._

"_Axel, just…Just _go_!" He ordered, still refusing to open his eyes, refusing to face the confused warrior. "I'm not great with my Gift, I won't be able to – to control it if you stay – "_

_The Draco was at Roxas' side in an instant, crouching on his still blood-stained knees over the Prince's sprawled legs, reaching out to lower Roxas' hands from his face, gently extending two fingers to tilt the blond's face to him. _

"_Roxas," he said softly. The Prince's eyes stayed closed, shut tight, tears leaking out from under the gold eyelashes. "Roxas, look at me."_

"_I can't!" The Arkadian choked, trying to turn away. "I can't, I'll – "_

"_Roxas." Axel growled, refusing to allow the smaller boy to look away from him, even with his eyes closed. "If you don't want this, then say so, but you're not making me do anything I don't want to."_

"_I – what?" _

_Blue gems revealed themselves as Roxas opened his eyes instinctively, brimming over with heart-felt tears; and instantaneously Axel forgot his point; forgot to ask what Gift this was; forgot to ask why Roxas had used his racial to become Leon; forgot to say he wanted this like he'd never felt anything before._

_Roxas hesitated a moment when he saw Axel's gaze burn; but he quickly lost the battle as the Draco's mouth slid smoothly over his own, chaste silk almost immediately replaced by Breath and teeth and tongue as Axel hoisted him up, the smaller blond easily fitting into Axel's arms as if he were meant to be there; and as Axel found a bedroom empty of occupants, falling onto the silk-sheeted bed atop the Prince, tugging at clothes and Breathing fire down the other's throat, kissing and gasping and making the younger Arkadian writhe – _

_He couldn't help but notice how perfect the whole thing felt. How…How meant-to-be it felt, the sweat-slicked slide of skin on skin, the taste of Roxas' moans in his mouth, the hot, tight velvet that took him in – and over all, the glazed-lusting-loving-exited-breathless-breath_taking _eyes that drowned him, over and over and over again._

Every breath tore his throat; every pained breath made him beg his heart to stop beating; every crushing beat had him begging for time to stop, rewind; pause back when everything was perfect – touched with gold and shining so brightly he should have _known_, should have gods-damn-it-_known_ that it couldn't last forever.

Trying to shut out the pain, Axel cried himself to sleep, alone and never lonelier in the large, empty bed in his room, with only the shimmering wafts of draft watching over him.

The breezes, watching and learning and waiting.

)0(

Far away, Roxas was gently woken as he felt someone climb into bed beside him, the blankets adjusting carefully to cover the other person as well.

He stiffened, his thoughts flying to Xemnas, meant to be sleeping in the next room down the hall: but he relaxed as he felt the accidental brush of freezing cold skin on his arm, letting his eyelids lower again against the sea-shell-shade moonlight, pale as pearl.

It was just Riku.

"Where were you?" He whispered quietly, letting his friend know he didn't have to answer. Not that he would, if he didn't want to, but, still…

Riku didn't answer, and Roxas had given up, snuggling back into the warm blankets by the time Riku whispered his own answer back.

"Outside…Up on the roof." The Rose rolled over, and Roxas could feel the other's breath on his shoulder. "Do you mind if I…?"

Knowing what was asked – he'd lost count of how many times Riku had needed mortal warmth, craving it with something somehow _more_ than instinct but less than emotion, and come to ask it of Roxas.

There was nothing suggestive about the way Riku's arms snaked around the other boy's waist; how his freezing cold cheek placed itself on the hollow between his shoulder and his neck. Roxas winced at the sudden bite of cold, but worked to get back to sleep anyway. "I was thinking…"

"About what?" Roxas asked, wanting to sleep but wanting to know, as well.

"Sora," Riku whispered, nuzzling into the warmth with a sigh of near-content. "Even now I can't feel, he still makes me feel…Just thinking about him…It's…"

But Roxas, skin adjusting to the cold, had already fallen asleep.

* * *

AN - okay, more explanations required. /sigh/ Roxas is Arkadian; meaning that his **racial-power** is shape-shifting. Hence why he looked like Leon. As for WHY he looked like Leon...That will be explained at a later date. /grin/ Roxas' Gift will also be explained later - but if anyone guesses right in a review, I'll let them know! 


	10. A Scattered Dream

**Hey everyone! New chapter, sorry it took so long! Slight hint of bestiality in this chapter – it's a human/Luparri pairing, it was going to happen SOMETIME – and a load of angst. I'm sorry, but this is the only way I could portray it. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter Nine – A Scattered Dream That's Like a Far Off Memory…

The Winds hovered over Riku for a moment, circled around their Brother, before scattering, glitter and shine and diamond-dust separating in a dozen different directions, searching for those souls that burned with a different kind of fire.

One breeze stayed behind, twisting in the air to curl like a shimmering ribbon around Roxas, caressing his bare skin, amused as he shivered in his sleep, turning a little under the blankets as the light breath of Wind slipped inside his mind, softlygentlysparkling.

_There's fire everywhere, burning almost sky-high and staining the air with smoke that burns his throat, his nose his eyes. People are screaming, spells are being cast all around him – he can feel the bone-shiver of magik flashing in every direction, water-charms and defensive hexes, but they're doing nothingnothingnothing. _

_They can't get the fires out, he knows it, he can feel it. The flames are too hot, the screaming is too loud, people are running everywhere but he recognises none of them._

"_Mother!" He screams, shouting, stumbling, Shifting shapes as fast as he can, trying to find something with eyes that can pierce the smoke. DracoFeyLuparri, SyrnanUnitopianDark-Rose, VampireKatneishianDanaan, but nothing works, he's still coughing, choking on the smoke as he trips, almost falling to the floor. "Mother! Namine! Where are you?!"_

_Someone grabs his arm, and he whirls, instantly relaxing – it's his mother, it's his sister, summoned out of the dark smoke by his cries – but his face falls when he sees the royal insignia on the guard's helm._

"_Prince! I'm glad I found you! Come, we must go!" _

_But he shrugged the arm off, stumbling back to run off into the flames. "No! I have to find Namine! And mother – do you know if they're safe?"_

_He turned to run, Shifting again, Draco so he has a better chance of surviving the almost white-hot flames, but the guard only grabs his arm again._

"_My lord, I must take you to your father! It's not safe – the palace is coming down around us!"_

_And he can scream and kick and Shift all he wants, but he's not as strong as an adult Arkadian, and he can't get away from the grip on his shoulder that pulls him from the burning rock, can't get away to find his mother, his sister – even when he sees the flash of blonde hair, he can't get away, pulled from the palace and handed over to the King, his father that didn't care enough to search for anyone but his Heir. _

(0)

_Roxas rolls over onto his back, laughing, brushing the strands of grass off his face, out of his hair, grinning up at the blood-haired man above him, the Draco that smirks down at the blond._

"_Do you concede defeat then, Prince?" Axel asked solemnly, given away by the glint of laughter in the jade of his eyes. His hands ran softly up and down Roxas' sides, and he didn't know the Draco was threatening to start tickling him again, he'd have pulled his face down to kiss him._

"_I – I give up, Ax!" He gasped, trying to get his breath back, laughing breathlessly, like a _girl_, staring up at the Draco warrior with a grin. "You win, ok?"_

"_Oh _good_," Axel murmured, leaning down to brush his mouth over his lover's. "So we're agreed that you're the sub in this relationship?"_

"_What?" Roxas looks up at him, startled. They've never talked about this before…But… "Yeah, I guess. Why?"_

_Axel grinned, rolling off of him abruptly, and Roxas turned his head to frown at him curiously as the Draco reached into his pocket for something, abruptly nervous. _

"_You know what? I'm just gonna do this," Axel said suddenly, pulling out something from his pocket, hidden inside his hand. He turned to Roxas, staring at him intently._

"_Rox – you saved my life almost a year ago. You and your freaky Hypnotising," he teased, before flipping back to serious. "And we've been together ever since…"_

_He took a deep breath, not noticing Roxas' sudden tension. "I'm not doing a very good job of this…What I'm trying to say, is – "_

_He held out the black velvet box, and Roxas sucked in a breath softly, leaning up on one elbow, his eyes foccussed on Axel's trembling hand. _

"_Roxas, will you be my Heart's Choice?" Axel asked gently, his voice shaking towards the end, flicking the box open with a dart of magik to reveal a pair of rings, shining pearl and polished obsidian, nestled in a roll of ebony silk._

_He couldn't breathe, could do nothing but stare at the set of bonding rings shining softly in the summer daylight. He couldn't believe it…_

"_Roxas?" Axel asked, fearfully, making to withdraw his hand. "I'm sorry, it's too soon, I just – "He looked about to cry, his shoulders fighting not to shake – and were his cheeks shimmering…?_

"_No!" Roxas cried, reaching out for the box, slipping the two rings over his first and middle fingers as he moved forward, until he was straddling Axel's lap, pressing his mouth to the Draco's, his newly-adorned hands reaching up to curl in his hair. _

"_Of course I will, you idiot!"_

_Laughing at Axel's disbelief, he kissed him, again and again, feather-light and fire-hot until the Glamour on Axel's face flickered out as the Draco lost concentration, revealing the pair of bonding-marks imprinted on his cheeks; chips of ebony inset into his skin, just under his eyes, branding him as Roxas' and Roxas' alone, for forever and a day._

_And he's never been so happy in his life._

)0(

They sparkle and shine through the night air, glittering like stardust in the corner of your eye, whirling and whistling softly among the dark streets.

Some of them slip through the cracks in a window-frame, sweep along a corridor and up a flight of spiral stairs, to a door that opens to a Mickey-Mouse key.

_He has to run. He has to be faster, faster, _faster_, because if he isn't there in time and the other goes, he'll die from the pain in his splitting heart, and the adrenalin is coiling in his stomach, making him feel sick with panic. He was so _stupid_ – all this time, how did he never realise? How was he so blind, so ignorant, so unthinking and cruel and _stupid_? So prejudiced he couldn't even see that everything he ever wanted was right in front of him, offered with a heart of diamond, shining like a star in the hand of the boy he loved? _

_And he'd taken it: taken that heart and cast it on the ground, shattered it on the harsh floor as his friend, his love cried tears of blood. Those beautiful aquamarine eyes, like gems, hadn't accused him, hadn't been full of anger or hate or regret – and that hurt the most. _

_They'd been full of self-loathing as the other boy turned and ran._

_He'd sentenced every world in existence to death because of his petty prejudices. But a hundred times worse – he'd doomed his love's soul for eternity if he wasn't fast enough. _

)0(

They leave Sora to his fevered dreams, restless and confusing and saturated in an atmosphere of _panic_. They slip out back through the keyhole, spiralling down the stairs again, following a new corridor to slip under a black door, silver wolf etched onto the door knob.

_Sharp, icy snow bites into the naked pads of his feet as he runs, a biting wind clawing at his hair, dusted with diamond-dust frost that shines in the dark._

_The snowfields, too, glow under the moonlight, and though it's cold on his bare feet it doesn't bother him – it's sharp and dangerous and exciting, wild, and the feeling of the ice-breath caressing his sweat-slicked skin, naked and unclothed as he runs through the dark, is intoxicating. _

_He shivers as the smooth curve of the land rises ahead of him, shaping the snow and ice into a low hill, and to his left a deep shadow of pine forest stretches, reaching out from the horizon with beckoning fingers. It's tempting, to turn from his destination, to turn and run and vanish in amongst the trees. _

_But he isn't shivering with cold; nor with fear._

_Anticipation._

_Abruptly, he comes to a halt, only the soft crunch of the snow underfoot to give him away, his star-blue eyes easily making out the form of a storm-grey wolf padding onto the peak of the hill, so close now. The creature is large, four feet high to the shoulder, powerfully muscled and elegantly shaped; but that isn't what has Cloud mesmerised. _

_The wolf leans back, raising it's head to the crescent above them both; and it's so easy to believe they are the only ones in the world as it's howl shatters the silence, echoing over the ice-fields and winding through the forest, spiralling upwards to dance around the stars. It reaches for him with velvet fingers, caressing his sweat-soaked skin and curling around his heart, tugging deliciously possessively._

_The sound dies away, and for a moment it seems the wolf contemplate the silence, the lack of sound that is calm, that is peacefully expectant – but Cloud is anything but. _

_The wolf's howl is somehow the most erotic thing he has ever seen in his life, ever heard, the song that curls around his heart, his throat, that almost brings him to his knees with its wildness, its strength and haunting echoes of might-have-been, and his skin is flushed and hot, even in the midst of the ice; his breath sharp and hard, his eyes glazed with _want.

_As if it knows his thoughts, the creature turns, dark blue eyes meeting his over the slight distance, and he groans, unable to _bear_ the weight of the heated gaze, somehow still piercing over the range. _

_And maybe it hears him; because it starts to run, paws gracefully placed as it moves through the snow, never slipping as it makes its way down the slope, and he trembles as it comes closer, and closer, eyes almost fluttering closed at the indescribable _wantneed_ that burns…_

_In one leap, the wolf crashes into him, knocking him over onto his back in the snow, and he cries out at the fantastic sensations assaulting him, all at once – the abrupt, sudden meeting of ice and his heated skin; the friction of the rough, coarse fur caressing him, making him shiver, his eyes fluttering closed; the hard, hot pleasure of a heavy weight on his cock; the soul-pleasure of submission, of being dominated, tearing a moan from his throat._

_The wolf leans down to bite at his neck, and he moans again, reaching up with his hands to slide the fingers through that fur, loving how rough it is, how good it feels on his flushed, sweat-slicked skin, rolling his hips into the pleasure pressing down on him – _

_And somewhere along the line, amongst the heated gasps and tearing whimpers, his fingers register that the hair is suddenly silkier; the mouth at his throat has less sharpness to it; and his cock is rubbing against another, very _Human_ member – _

_But he doesn't care, can't care, because the other's hands are roving, fingers splayed to take in all of him at once, caressing and whispering nails and tweaking nipples, biting and clawing and moaning, and he's groaning as he feels the hot, rough pleasure of it become too intense as he's suddenly filled, abruptly, violently, and oh-god it feels so _good_…He can't get enough, can't stop rolling his hips upward, can't stop moaning, mewling, panting, can't stop his head tossing as he begs for the mouth at his throat, as he tugs on the hair coiled in his hands for a hot, sharp-toothed kiss…_

_God, he wants _more_, needs _more_, and he's begging and pleading as he's ravaged harder and _harder_, moaning as it gets _rougher_, more violent, until… until – _

He cried out, almost screaming as he writhed, tangling the sweat-soaked sheets around himself, thrusting his hips and tossing his head, coming and coming and –

He blinked as it finished, panting hard, as if he'd run a hundred miles, chest rising and falling rapidly as he realised where he was.

)0(

Further away, the Winds swirled above the Lupar's bed, rustling the bed-curtains as he tossed and turned uneasily, restless in sleep, his hand curled around a silver ring, a skilfully moulded wolf-head adorning the band.

_The first time. The Crown-Heir of Luparri, grinning and punching the air as he ran around his room, swinging his first sword, the blade shining like the reflection of starlight in a lake as it swirled through the air, slicing through breath._

_He's so excited, so ecstatic at the first mark of a warrior, that it's as if his body can't hold it all, can't contain the wild, wordless joy, and it spills out, overflows over the edges to flow outwards, his mind reaching out and out and out, and he doesn't even know what he's doing, doesn't have a clue about anything but the smooth, leather-coated grip of the hilt in his hand and the arm-testing weight of the sword._

_But he stops, suddenly, pausing in his running as his mind comes up against something, something hard and smooth and slightly cold, something that gives a little under the mental pressure like elastic. It surrounds him, wraps around the room like a cocoon, and it's making him nervous, more and more so as he whirls, trying to find a place, a wall, a surface that isn't covered in this stuff. What is it? Why is it all over his room? Does his father know? Do the court mages know? What – ?_

_Frightened, scared, he reaches out mentally for it, taking it between two hands and turning it over and over, looking for something, for a code or password or clue as to what it is._

_And he finds a switch, a button, and he turns it off, curiously terrified, and jumps when he feels the container around him vanish as if it was never there._

_Instantly, shrill, screaming alarm-wards go off, all over the palace, and he falls to the ground, to his knees, covering his sensitive ears as the noise goes on and on, tearing through his ears, and he wouldn't be surprised if they're bleeding, so sharp and shrill and _unbearable_ is that sound – _

_Guards, soldiers, pouring into his room with blades drawn, arrows cocked, half a dozen slipped into wolf-form, snarling and watching and leaping over him, sniffing into every corner, searching for an enemy, a threat –_

_But there's nothing there. Nothing that could have destroyed the protective spells over his room, no enemy or spy or, in fact, anything dangerous whatsoever – _

_And then they found his magikal signature all over the shattered spells. _

(0)

_It's _him.

_He can't believe it. Disbelief, regret, heart-wrenching tears coil in his chest and tug at his heart, his vision blurring as they drag in the prisoner, his fingers clenching bone-white on the rail as he struggles to stay upright, tries to stay calm as the man that curled around his heart kicks and screams abuse past the coarse gag in his mouth. The guards, as stonily silent as the rest of the courthouse, ignore his struggles to toss him in the silver circle traced on the floor._

_He cries out as he crashes to the ground, as the wards come up with a flash, shimmering, almost-invisible walls that bind him in, his dark sapphire eyes scanning the courthouse for familiar faces, the hands bound behind him pulling at the burning grip of the steel. His blond hair, the dagger-sharp spikes slightly wilted after his treatment, whips as his head turns, searching for something, someone._

_Leon pushes off the rail of the balcony, his heart throbbing, each beat pulsing angry-green acid through his veins. Choking back a sob, he turns to leave. There's no way he can stand this, no way he can stand here and watch them sentence the blond to death – if he's lucky._

_His head whips around as a gloved hand clenches his shoulder, eyes widening in fury – his tears eager to become anger, to leave behind the pain that almost chokes him – and he comes face to face with the Guard-Master Seifer._

_The Guard glances to the insignia on his jacket – the black wolf, howling to the rising silver moon – and Leon hears the unspoken reminder of his status. It's almost a command to stay, almost a warning of who will tell Leon's father that his son wasn't present for this particular trial. _

_The Prince backed down, sluggishly returning to the rail as Seifer vanishes into the woodwork, watching over Leon and his brother Laguna, the younger brother whose gaze never wavered from the proceedings._

_Someone is listing the charges – attempted theft; attempted murder; conspiracy; treason – but the blond in the prisoner's circle isn't listening. His eyes still scan the crowd, frowning in frustration, hands still tugging on the cuffs. Leon can see the angry red marks on his wrists from the balcony, and even now his heart twists. _

"_How does the accused plead?" _

_The man that reads out the charges answers smoothly. "He pleads not-guilty, your honour." _

_The judge looked at the lawyer over his glasses. "And why can he not answer for himself?"_

"_The accused was judged to be a threat to the proceedings, your honour, and is thus bound as well as being under the influence of a magikal-suppressant."_

_The Crown-Prince choked back another sob, eyes clenching against the tears for a moment. The blond must be totally out of it, not even able to remember his own name if he'd been injected with the drugs…This was a mockery of a trial, a fucking _joke

_The voices continued, witnesses brought up, questioned, and returned to their seats. The jury spoke in low whispers to each other, the watching public in their seats glued to the proceedings._

_He was given permission not to be called as a witness. He was still a Prince, then – if he refused to give evidence, there was nothing they could do._

_The last witness to be called – silver hair, eyes like flames. A Vampire, flitting like a shadow to the witness box, swearing his oath in a delicately flavoured accent, his hand resting on the scroll as he was sworn into the record._

_But he never had a chance to speak another word. _

_At the sight of him – as his name was rung out over the court – the blue eyes of the blond widened, and he started struggling anew, muscles straining as he tried to break the cuffs once more, lunging forward with his head to bite through the cloth gag. He was ignored, only Leon's eyes glued to him, emotions shaking as if in an earthquake, pained and choked._

_Suddenly, alarms tore through the court, screaming and shrieking as the chain connecting the cuffs snapped, links dangling, sparkling with writhing magik as he tore the gag from his mouth, shouting out over the noise of the panicking public, the soldiers pouring down the aisles to his circle, the screaming alarms._

"_Xemnas, you fucking bastard! I hope you die in fucking agony, you filthy bloodsucker! And if I have anything to do with it, it'll take you five hundred fucking years to die!" _

_He whirled in the small circle, the broken chains on his wrists whipping with the motion as his eyes frantically searched the gathered people, already being evacuated as he beat his fists on the shimmering walls of his prison._

"_Leon!" _

_The Prince, turning to go, being led away by the royal guards, froze._

"_Leon, I swear, he's lying! They're all lying! I never did any of it! Leon!"_

"_Your Highness…"The guard tried to tug at his arm, but the Prince almost ran back to the rail, leaning over it, so far he might fall. He can't fight the almost magnetic pull on his heart, the desperate need to believe what the man is screaming._

"_Leon, please!" The blond's fists beat harder against the walls, head falling. "I swear, they're lying! You can't believe I'd do that to you! Please!"_

_The soldiers are circling the silver now, spears crackling with power that they point at him threateningly, but he ignores them, searching the fleeing faces, the civilians leaving the room, for that one person, blue eyes desperate. _

"_It wasn't me!" He screamed as the spears passed through the wards, slashing into his arms and chest so that he cried out, almost falling. "I swear it, Leon!" _

_Cold water ran through the Prince at those words, at the memory – the drowsy sensation of waking up while it was still dark, alerted by the rustle of bare feet on the carpet by his bed. The flash of silver, moonlight on metal – the blond hair, almost shining in the light – the glint of hate-filled blue eyes as the dagger rose, ready to plunge._

_As much as he wanted to believe his once-time lover, he knew who had woken him that night, whose hand had clutched the dagger meant to break his heart._

"_Leon, please!" The blond cried, as he fought off two soldiers, struggling as his blood sprayed from a long cut down his shoulder, crying out as his skin parted. _

_He was lying. It hurt; it twisted; it ached; it made him want to curl up and just _die.

_He was lying._

_As he moved away from the edge of the balcony, the blond's head shot up, gaze filling with tears as his eyes caught the movement, as his sapphire eyes met Leon's ocean-blue ones. _

_Leon forced his face to smooth, forced himself to stare emotionlessly down at the fight in the corner of the room. He refused to react as someone grabbed his lover's arms, wrenching them behind his back roughly, refused to be aware of how the blond didn't even notice the pain, just stared pleadingly up at the Crown-Prince._

"_Leon, please," he whispered, the plea falling into a moment of silence as they all – the soldiers, the Guardsmen, the courtiers already in the hallway, Laguna – fall quiet, looking to their Crown-Heir, waiting for his response._

_And the blond Lupar, still and nearly crying in the grip of another pair of cuffs, too many hands gripping his clothes, spears pressed hard against his skin, keeping him pinned. Ignoring them all, all of them, except the blue-eyed Prince on the balcony. _

_Choking, Leon turned away, wrenched himself from the rail and almost threw himself backwards, towards his family, towards his Guards, the royal house and the courtiers and all the people who, in four years, would stand in this very room and argue for his status to be stripped from him. _

_He turned away, but not before he saw the blond's eyes filled with sudden, heart-wrenching despair; not before he saw his lover's strength leave him; not before he saw him gagged and bound without resistance._

_Not before he saw the heart of the man he'd once loved broken into a hundred thousand pieces. _

)0(

The breezes whispered out of Leon's rooms, whirling down the hallways, the tapestries and curtains fluttering as they passed, their passing marked by the shimmer in the smooth, cold mirrors dotting the walls.

They branched into two groups at a meeting of halls, half slipping into the darkness that led to the shadow-shifter's chambers; half climbing up the staircase to seek out the musician.

The golden haired Fey was only barely asleep when they found him – and downstairs, Zexion wasn't asleep at all, blank violet eyes staring straight ahead at the empty wall.

Neither were able to be given dreams to dream that night – neither deep enough into the oceans of unconsciousness that their mind were malleable enough for the suggestion – but Zexion fell asleep dreamlessly, watched over by protective winds that curled around his bedposts, playing with the threads of the four-poster's curtains. Demyx was left to his own mind, that gave him guilt and confusion and longing for something he couldn't name, and he spent the night trying to separate the three while walking the edge of dreams.

And the glitterings breaths of air kept away from the red-headed Draco sleeping a floor away. They weren't sure if any more memories would break him, leave him spiralling and screaming down into the darkness – and he couldn't be broken.

They all had to survive. They all had jobs to do.

The winds watched over their Champions through the night, whispering to each other under cover of darkness.

* * *

AN Hey guys! Ok, I KNOW loads of people are going to be convinced the blond in Leon's dream is Cloud, and that the wolf Cloud saw was Leon. Ermine...No. Nope, nada, definitely not. Sorry. Apart from that, the only thing I have to say is this - 

)0( Change in scene. So switching POV's, etc.

(0) Change in time. So between Roxas' two dreams, we have this symbol.

Hope that clears it up! Before you go, please review! Go on...you know you want to!


	11. Apology

To everyone: I apologise for all the misconceptions about this story

To everyone: I'm very sorry for leaving this fic without an update for so long. In fact, I'm sorry for leaving _all_ of my fanfictions for so long. Life got complicated, my email account almost _died_ and I _might_ have become addicted to roleplays. winces

Anyway, the exams are finally over, and I intend to spend my entire summer holidays working on all my stories.

The only thing I would ask is if anyone would be interested in helping me. It's been so long that I have no idea if I used to have a beta for this, or if she's gone and left me for leaving her so long without an update. If that's the case, I apologise profusely, especially to Lockea Stone, my Silver Prince beta whom I completely adored. But still; if anyone's interested, could they please send me a note, or a review on this chapter? Thank you.

Siavahda

p.s I'm adding this note to all my current fanfictions, but it will be deleted from each story as I add new chapters.


	12. All I Ever Dreamed Of

Oh my gods, guys! I've FINALLY updated something! :D Wow. Um, ok, not sure what to say, except I'M SO SORRY EVERYONE, I AM EVIL AND DESERVE TO HAVE VEGETABLES THROWN AT ME. *hangs head in shame* My only excuses are my GCSEs - my dad confiscated my laptop to make me study - and my mom took her life a while ago.

Please don't give condolences. I understand the sentiment, but she was a total bitch and I hadn't seen her in three years, so it's actually not a very big deal for me.

ANYWAY! :D Hopefully this is the start of many updates to come. I do so hope so.

Hope you guys enjoy it!

* * *

Chapter Ten – All I Ever Dreamed Of

"Sora! Come on, get up!"

The brunette shot upright as Cloud's voice called him from beyond his door. "Cloud? What's – ?"

"We've got to go! I've made you toast, but we're late. Ten minutes!"

Sora blinked at the sound of his brother disappearing down the stairs to the main house; it took him a minute to process what Cloud had said, and then he threw the blanket back, tearing around his room like a miniature whirlwind. Jeans, t-shirt: he swept the mess on his desk into his school bag and threw it over his shoulder, grabbing his jacket as he tore down the stairs and tried not to trip over his own feet.

"I'm here!" Sora flailed, tripping after all, on the very last step – Cloud caught his shoulder without even looking at him, with an ease born of long practise, handing his little brother his toast as he picked him up. Grateful, Sora started munching, trying to struggle into his jacket without actually taking his bag from his shoulders.

"What's up with this, anyway?" He demanded, following the blonde through the house to grab Cloud's bag, already deposited at the front door. "You never sleep in, and you always get me up. You're like a human _alarm clock_."

Cloud's face flushed, but he wouldn't look at Sora no matter how his younger brother tried to change the fact, with much arm waving and dancing in front of him. "Weird dreams," he muttered, opening the door and kicking his bag up into the air – and catching it – all in one movement. "Now come on, or we're going to be late."

Sora blinked, but didn't comment. He didn't remember what he'd been dreaming about over the weekend, but the vague, unsettled sensation it had left behind was enough for him to climb up behind his brother on his motorbike without another word.

)0(

Riku wasn't beside him when Roxas woke in the morning, blue eyes blinking as images swam over his vision like wisps of gossamer smoke, but he wasn't overly concerned for his friend. Riku didn't follow a normal sleeping pattern – he rose with the sun and slept with the moon directly overhead, his energy following the celestial lights instead of the passing of time, and it wasn't unusual to find him out on the practising fields, having been sparring for hours while Roxas was just waking up.

Yawning, Roxas stretched, swinging his legs over the bed, the sheets curling over his waist as he flung them back. He rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes, wondering what to do next –

And froze.

"_Roxas, will you be my Heart's Choice?"_

The dreams flowed through his mind like a river, unstoppable as a force of nature, and he struggled to breathe past the rising panic choking his throat, forcing himself to just _breathe_.

" – _be my Heart's Choice?"_

_Shining pearl, polished obsidian…_

Wisps of knowledge, of remembrance. The wingless Draco, the Spark General, the smiling man that had asked to bond with him. Three different facets of the red-head that was starting to haunt Roxas' mind.

"_Of course I will, you idiot!"_

He bit his lip, hands running through his hair, head held over his knees as he tried to stay calm, tried to convince himself it was a dream. _Just a dream, dream, dream…_

But it felt so _real_. The sunlight on his skin, the silky slide of the grass, the pounding concoction of fear and anticipation when Axel took out the black velvet box.

_So real…_

Why would he dream something like that? He'd never had any serious crushes on anyone, never thought of anyone romantically. There was physical longing, yes – but that wasn't what he'd felt for Axel. Not even close.

He growled, eyes squeezing shut as his hands tugged at his hair, trying to think past all the whirling sensations burning through him. Trying to think logically.

Fact: he had no memories before the last three years. Fact: the first thing he remembered was Riku's face, cool and void of expression, leaning over him, checking his pulse. Fact: he had _knowledge_, but not _memory_.

In other words – he knew about the Web. The Peoples. Knew about magik, knew how to work it. Knew his favourite colours were black and white, knew he liked sword fighting and magery, battle-magik. But he didn't know how he knew.

It was…possible that he knew Axel from before. Things the Draco had said…_ "This isn't like you, Roxas…"_ (How did he know?) Things he'd done… (How did he know which parts of Roxas were the most sensitive?) And…

His hand went automatically for the pendant under his pyjama top, the sharp-edged X inlaid with onyx, fingertips playing over the smooth contrast of metal and gem.

"_That belongs to you, Prince,_"… Why did he have it?

But, most of all…

"_Someday you'll remember, Roxas…_"

Roxas groaned, fingers threading through his hair again, angrily. Yes, the Draco could be messing with his head. The whole thing could be some kind of…of…Some elaborate spell, some timed charm worked to make him start dreaming about the red-head.

But it didn't sound likely. Why would a complete stranger expend that much effort on someone they didn't know?

He felt sick. How much of his life had been stolen from him? He didn't know his family's name – hell, he didn't even know which People he came from! So his ears were slightly pointed – it meant nothing to him! He could have been Elf, or Arkadian, or Danaan, or even some kind of Faerie!

He wanted to know who he was. He wanted to know why Xemnas had backed down yesterday, why there had been a flash of fear in amber eyes as they looked at him. Wanted to know why he dreamed of a Heart's Choice he couldn't remember. Wanted to know why he dreamed of fires and Princes and shadows.

Wanted to know why he couldn't remember.

)0(

Reno hadn't needed to glance at the calendar that morning to know what the date was; it had been a lead weight in his stomach for weeks, growing heavier and heavier as it came closer and closer. Just getting up this morning had been almost too much.

Even Zack's endless optimism had taken a heavy blow, and he was quiet, withdrawn, as the two of them walked the few blocks to the Academy. It was a beautiful, sunny day, but the electric blue eyes of his best friend were dull and faded, as close to misery as was it was possible for Zack to get.

"Hey," Reno said quietly, reaching out to hold his friend's shoulder – comfortingly, he hoped. "He wouldn't want this. He'd have hated to see you like this, Zack."

"Yeah, I know," the sable-haired boy said finally, and Reno winced internally at the sound of his voice; rough, as if he'd been up crying all night. "But your act isn't really up to scratch, either."

The red head shrugged, silently acknowledging the truth of the words. Even after all these years, the pain hadn't eased, hadn't faded even a little, and it was impossible to pretend that it had.

Losing your Heart's Choice wasn't something you ever got over.

They said no more about it as they entered the tarmac playground. Dozens of human children were gathered together in groups, talking animatedly or mechanically – excited to see their friends after the weekend or dreading the start of Monday classes – waiting for the bell that would let them in.

"Hey, Cloud," Reno called, waving his arm to get their friend's attention. The spikey-headed blonde was just locking up his bike, his little brother unusually quiet and still. "How was your weekend, yo?"

"Boring," he answered, nodding his head for Sora to go join his own peers. After a piercing look at his older brother, the tiny brunette did so, and Reno didn't give him another thought. "You?"

It was sad that Cloud knew not to ask what was wrong with them. They'd never explained, but he knew – on the 19th of November, the two were depressed and down and didn't want to talk about it: ever.

Reno shrugged. "Same ol', same ol'," he muttered, tired of pretending already and resenting the effort it would take to just get through the day. When all he wanted was to go back to his apartment and collapse.

Cloud nodded and opened his mouth to say something, when suddenly Zack stiffened. "Zack?"

"Hey, buddy?" Reno asked, catching on. Zack was as still as if he'd been abruptly turned into a statue; his head was turned, looking back towards the school gate. Reno punched his shoulder lightly, growing worried by the glazed, ice-cold expression taking over his features; but Zack's only reaction was to start shaking, as if with repressed emotion.

Concerned, Reno followed his eyes – and froze.

He didn't think. It wasn't a conscious decision, wasn't something he considered/decided on.

He just ripped his mage-blade from the Ether as the world exploded.

)0(

Leon and Zexion had spent the last few days focussing the seeking spells to hunt for the Rose. They'd seen little of Axel and Demyx, and both privately hoped they weren't spending the time together, albeit for different reasons.

Leon didn't want his Pack getting even more tangled, more complicated. Zexion just didn't want to feel another piece of his heart break.

But they'd managed it, and against their advice Leon opted to track him alone. They all saw him eye Axel as he explained that no, he wouldn't approach Riku; but it was good to start sketching out a routine for him, to make their lives easier.

They all had to agree that Leon was the best for this kind of mission.

The Croydon Academy for Gifted Students was a large building, built of warm red brick thirty or forty years ago; a small clock tower extended from the roof like a finger pointing at the sky. It was surrounded by a relatively small tarmac playground that reminded Leon of a castle's moat – large in itself, but it seemed smaller than the school really needed, if the number of windows was relative to classrooms and classrooms were relative to students.

His grey eyes swept over the gathered students waiting for the school day to really begin, looking for a flash of silver hair. He tried to look casual, his hands in his pockets, aware that a strange man standing by the gate of a playground was somewhat suspicious in this world.

He didn't see Riku. What he caught instead was a flash like lightning, the crackle-sizzle of a mage-blade being activated, and the roaring battle cry of the Luparri.

Instinctively, he reached for his blade, drawing it from the Ether as if from an invisible sheath.

)0(

"Zack?" Cloud frowned, worried, and he stepped forward, raising his hand to gently touch his friend's shoulder. "Are you – ?"

The second the blonde touched him, Zack was off and running, blue eyes on fire in a way Cloud had never seen before – he could only watch, stunned, as his friend moved faster than any human possibly could, almost blurring; and in a hundredth of a second Reno tore after him, something golden and blazing in his hand, almost as fast and just as brightly burning with a rage Cloud couldn't even begin to imagine.

Not one of the students seemed able to move – Cloud felt locked into place – until Zack _roared_, an animal scream of rage and pain and _hate_ that couldn't have possibly come from a human throat.

Because in the same instant Reno _screamed_, high and wild like glass and fire, and Cloud dropped to his knees with almost every other person at the school as the sound ripped through his ear drums; every window on the street shattered like exploding stars, the world spun, and when Cloud felt something wet on his fingers he realised his ears were bleeding.

All this happened in a second, if that. In just a second, they all saw how Zack and Reno moved as one, like birds of a flock, limbs of one mind, extensions of the same spirit; Reno caught up to the other boy and it was as if they were synchronised, as if this scene had played itself out so many times there was no need for conscious thought, instinct alone guiding them.

Then the screams started.

)0(

It took a moment for Leon to react, because he'd seen this before.

As the black-haired boy raced towards him and leapt forwards, exploding in a snarling whirlwind of fur and flesh and tattered clothing – as the skinny red-head's back split apart with wings of fire – the only thing that was different was the hate staining blue and green eyes.

"Zack? Reno?" He gasped, stunned, unable to believe what he was seeing. "I thought you were – "

_dead_

They crashed into him, a hound of Hell and an angel of wrath, intent on justice.

)0(

When the stranger by the gate went flying backwards, it was enough to knock Cloud out of his shock.

He wasn't thinking. Not really. He'd just seen his two best friends turn into a – a wolf and an angel, but they were attacking someone and he knew that wasn't like them. Not Zack, bubbly and cheerful with the brightest smile in the world; not Reno, the life and soul of the party with a heart of gold. No. They couldn't want to kill someone.

"Cloud! What are you -?!"

"Get inside!" He yelled at Sora, seeing his little brother over to one side, still crouched on the ground. "Get everyone inside, call 999!"

Without waiting for an answer, ignoring Sora's cries, he raced to where a giant black wolf was just raking jagged claws through the stranger's chest.

)0(

Leon yelled, losing his grip on his blade as Zack's claws tore into his chest. Blood spurted; he heard the clank of metal as his gunblade was kicked away, his back crashing into the pavement only seconds later under the wolf's weight.

"Zack, it's _me!_" He gasped, struggling to breathe, the wind knocked out of him and now Zack's dinner-plate paws on his shoulders, pinning him down and snarling.

"Oh, we know that, _your Highness._"

Leon forced himself to look past Zack's bared fangs – as long as his fingers and as sharp as his sword – to meet sharp, deadly green.

What he saw there shocked him to the core.

These two had been his Brothers, his Pack before Ansem called him to take up his destiny. He and Zack had trained together, both of them Luparri, both of them gifted in the arts of war; so talented, in fact, that Zack had gained the patronage of Angeal Hewley, one of the legendary Sword Masters. Reno was one of the Southern Fey, whip-lash strong and Fire-born, one of the best assassins in the southern Web and one of the founding members of SOLDIER, the mercenary group that hired itself out to Kings and Queens around the Web. _Always get the job done._

He'd taken a year off in Luparri after meeting the Sheol ambassador Vincent Valentine – which had eventually became a permanent stay.

They'd been friends. Brothers.

The look in Reno's eyes made it clear they weren't anymore.

"What's going on, Reno?" Leon asked – trying to demand, but it was hard with a shifted Luparr squeezing the air from your chest. "I thought you were dead. Both of you." It was very hard to talk, with Zack's wolf-breath panting over his neck, inches away from his fangs.

The red-head clicked his tongue, his mage-blade leaning over his shoulder. The golden hilt was set with a single crystal; while Reno touched it, a blade of writhing lightning and crackling electricity extended from the metal. "Yeah, well, we're not, obviously. We escaped your little witch-hunt."

His eyes blazed, spitting fire, spitting poison. "But the others didn't. You were blind and stupid and you _killed_ them, _Squall_. Because you trusted Xemnas more than you trusted your lover and your friends, Vincent and Angeal and Aerith are _dead_."

Leon didn't see him move, but he arched with a muffled scream as his wrist broke beneath Reno's boot. There had to have been magic in the blow, because his bones broke like a bird's – and he couldn't move away.

"You have no idea how long I've waited for this," the red-head hissed, and Zack growled agreement. "I can't wait to hear you scream."

He raised his sword, and Leon closed his eyes, despairing.

)0(

"_Go!"_

"_What? No frekin way!" Reno grabbed onto Vincent's arm, eyes wide and scared and determined. "Not without you, fang-face, now come on!"_

_The hallway was filling up with smoke. Aleron hung limp and out of it in Zack's arms, and Reno spared a worried glance for their Sun. The bright soul they all revolved around. Lover, brother, friend, their Pack had come together because of him. _

_Would he ever be the same, with his memories wiped clean by Squall's mages?_

"_Vincent is right," Aerith said quietly, and Reno saw Zack's blue eyes light up with panic. "We have to split up. Some of us stand and fight, so the rest of you can get away."_

"_But that's suicide!" Zack protested, hugging Aleron closer to him reflexively. "You can't win against the entire city's militia!" He looked to Angeal desperately. "Angeal, come on, tell them. Tell them we have to go!"_

_Reno watched, his heart beating staccato as the older Luparr, scarred and strong, shared a glance with the red-head's half-sister. Where Reno was Fire, Aerith was Earth – and where he was firey and impulsive, she was calm and logical, so she why wasn't she seeing sense?_

_Something in Zack shattered when Angeal shook his head – the puppy-Luparr sobbed, curling a hand desperately in his mentor's shirt. "No, no, you can't – I can't leave you – please, Angeal, Aerith, don't –" _

_Reno looked away, trying to give them a moment of privacy, trying to hide the pain in his eyes as his own heart split in two. _

"_You want me to go with Zack," he stated quietly, looking into Vincent's garnet eyes. "Because we're the fastest."_

_The Vampire/Demon half-breed nodded slowly, and someone who didn't know him wouldn't have seen the tears in his eyes. "We will hold them off as long as we can," he said softly. _

But then you'll die._ It didn't need to be said. Vincent, Angeal, Aerith; they were all magically powerful, skilled with their chosen weapons, but three could not hold off three thousand. _

_Reno wasn't prepared when Vincent pulled him close, but he didn't have to be; he kissed back desperately, touching his lover's silky black hair, velvet-soft skin, cupping his jaw and pulling him closer as if, somehow, they could melt together and Reno would have to leave him, wouldn't have to leave the best thing he'd ever known –_

_Vincent cupped his face as he pulled away, and as the clash of swords and the cries of guards came closer he seemed to freeze, memorising Reno's tear-streaked face (when had he started crying?) as if he wanted it to be the last thing he ever saw. _

_And then he pushed the Fey away. "Go."_

"_I love you," Reno gasped, hearing his heart shatter. It was a sound like stone breaking. _

"_I love you too," he heard Vincent whisper, and then he was pulling on Zack's arm, dragging him sobbing away from his lovers, dragging him slipping and stumbling through the maze of Squall's palace._

_They both heard the demonic roar, the howl, the scream of feminine rage braided together into a bone-chilling war-cry._

_And then there was nothing._

)0(

"No!" Cloud yelled, flinging his arms around Reno's waist and pulling him back. "Don't kill him!"

He didn't expect Reno to freeze, the impossible sword still raised in the air like an executioner's axe, but he did.

"C-cloud?"

"Yes," Cloud answered firmly, his arms still around his friend's waist. He took a step backward, pulling the red-head with him. "Come on, Reno. You don't want to kill him. I don't know what the hell is going on, but he's not worth it, whatever he did, whoever he is, it's not –"

"Aleron?"


End file.
